Blossoms and Blood
by lyrebird
Summary: WIP. Post Kyoto arc, Tsuzuki is determined to bring Muraki to justice. He tracks him to Nagasaki, but their reunion forces Tsuzuki to confront the duality within his own character.
1. A Library Visitation

Thanks to Ariss Tenoh and Becky for beta-ing

15/9/04 - minor editing. 

xxxxx

Life at the Shoukanka went on after Kyoto.

There were still unexplained deaths to solve, and curses to dispel, and demons to exorcise, and people who delayed the JuOhCho court proceedings by living longer than expected. As the Shinigami in charge of the Second block, Tsuzuki and Hisoka faced an ongoing battle to keep on top of the paperwork.

Neither of them spoke of Muraki again. He was out of sight, although he wasn't completely out of their minds. During the Shion University fire, Hisoka sensed a terrible light enveloping his body, protecting him from Touda's black flames. He still carried Muraki's curse, an intricate latticework of red lines tattooed over his body, but they no longer glowed as brightly as before.

Tsuzuki noted this, but decided to keep silent. Muraki had already ruined enough of Hisoka's past. He would not allow the memory of the mad doctor to mar Hisoka's future as well.

Besides, they had not come across his handiwork for months. There was no point in bringing up his name again. Given enough time, Tsuzuki was confident that Hisoka would be free of Muraki's sinister influence.

For himself, however, there was no such refuge.

Dreaming of the lives he'd taken away was nothing new. It was the price Tsuzuki had paid for the past seventy years for being a Shinigami. During his short life in the land of the living he'd been plagued by similar nightmares, of children who died after bullying him for his amethyst eyes, and the villagers who died after murdering his mother and sister.

So why did he dream of Muraki? Why dream of a man who was still very much alive?

Perhaps it was inevitable given the nature of their previous encounters. Enucleated eyes. Bloody asphyxiation. Stabbings that bordered on decapitation. Bursts of energy powerful enough to split his torso in two.

Some dreams continued the brutal and bloody theme, with much blood and disembodied limbs and missing eyes.

Then there were the dreams that left Tsuzuki gasping, his skin covered in cold sweat, and his groin aching with frustrated arousal. The erotic dreams.

_There are so many things I want to do to you, Tsuzuki-san. I'll tease you more, make you cry out more...and then I'll make you feel better. I'll show you things that no one else has ever shown you before._

_I'll make you only mine._

Since the events of Kyoto, Tsuzuki's dreams of Muraki were overtly sexual in nature. Not only did Muraki catch him, Muraki took him, again and again. Loved him. Cursed him. Tortured him with pleasure and pain.

In his dreams, there was no escape.

xxxxx

One morning, Hisoka came in to find Tsuzuki at his computer. Having been born well before the invention of the personal computer, Tsuzuki used his two index fingers to hunt and peck at the keys. Needless to say, he was a slow typist even when he concentrated fully on his work. This was the main reason why Hisoka ended up doing most of their reports.

"Good morning, Hisoka! Ready to start work with a happy face?"

Hisoka stared at the discarded cups of coffee piling up on the desk. "Tsuzuki, how long have you been here?"

Tsuzuki looked up from the keys. "Oh, I only came in an hour ago."

"At seven o'clock?? You normally don't come in until nine."

"Yes, well..." Tsuzuki put one hand behind his head and grinned sheepishly. "I know that I haven't been the most diligent of workers in the Shoukanka. But I've resolved to change my ways. As the most senior employee here, I should be setting a better example to the younger staff!"

Hisoka shrugged off his denim jacket and sat down at his desk. "It's about time. Chief Konoe was complaining about our late reports the other day. He says that if we don't hand them in by the end of today--" He stopped as Tsuzuki thrust a sheaf of papers in front of him. "What's this?"

"The reports. I finished them this morning for you. See?" Tsuzuki leaned closer to point out the forms. "I've even tallied up the out-of-pocket expenses, although my maths isn't always the best." He gave an embarrassed laugh.

Hisoka looked closely at the papers, then at Tsuzuki. "You couldn't have finished them all since this morning. You hadn't typed so much as a single line yesterday."

"I can be a very fast worker given the right incentive," Tsuzuki replied. He winked at Hisoka. "Besides, you've covered for me so many times. It's high time I returned the favour."

Hisoka lowered his head to cover the tell-tale blush of embarrassment. "I better check through them for mistakes. Tatsumi-san is very quick at finding errors in our accounts."

Tsuzuki straightened up. "Sure," he said, not in the least offended. Much as he liked teasing Hisoka, he didn't want to make the boy feel uncomfortable. "I'm going down to the library to do some reading if you want me."

Hisoka nodded, his mind already focused on the reports in front of him.

xxxxx

Tsuzuki knew his mood swings and patchy performance record had made it impossible for others to work with him. But Hisoka was still by his side. He hadn't requested reassignment or a new partner.

_You're human. I guarantee it!_

Tsuzuki smiled ruefully. His older sister Ruka had once comforted him as a child with almost the exact same words. In so many ways, Hisoka was the cute kid brother he never had.

Partners like Hisoka were one in a million.

Yes, it was high time he did more of the paperwork. Even though it was common for junior partners to do the reports, Hisoka deserved a rest now and then.

And now that Tsuzuki had resolved never ever to sleep again, he'd have much more time free to help Hisoka out, and avoid the kinky dreams in which Muraki did unmentionable things to him. It was the perfect solution to his nightmares. Shinigami could withstand physical trauma that would kill a human in an instant, so why wouldn't he cope with something as trivial as sleep deprivation?

Tsuzuki congratulated himself on coming up with such an excellent solution to his problem, then gave a huge yawn. All he needed was another cup of coffee and he'd be ready for anything.

He promptly set out for the new library premises. Unfortunately, sirens wailed and alarm bells clanged the moment his foot touched the doormat.

"Hey!!! What's going on?"

Steel bars crashed down over the entrance. Another set of steel bars slid horizontally across to block further entry.

"Intruder alert! Intruder alert!" a computer voice droned.

"Intruder?" Tsuzuki looked around wildly. "Where? Who?"

"You!!"

"Gushoshin!! What's the meaning of this?" Tsuzuki ran to the barred doors, and was given an electric shock for his trouble. "Arrrgh!" He shook his tingling hands. Next time he'd remember to wear his black gloves. "Why won't you let me in?"

The two bird spirits glared at him from behind the metal bars.

"You know why!"

"Vandals are banned from entering here!"

"But...but it's been years since I burned down the library!" Tsuzuki reached forward, then quickly remembered the electrified bars. "The first time I did it, I was possessed! I wasn't in my right mind."

"And the second time?" both birds chimed together.

"Terazuma was there! Being around a grump like that is enough to send anyone out of their right mind! Gushoshin, please! I only want to look at the archives."

"Never! The library would never survive it!"

"No bad-tempered book-haters are allowed here!"

Tsuzuki fell on his knees, his hands together in prayer. "I'll keep away from the new books. I promise that I'm not possessed, and I won't even peep at Terazuma if he appears. Please, Gushoshin, I'm not as immature or reckless as I was before. I've turned over a new leaf." Inspiration struck. "I'm helping Hisoka with background material for a report that's due today. He's too busy to come here, so I'm here to do research for him."

The Gushoshin looked at each other. Hisoka was their favourite of all the Shinigami. He was a regular library visitor, and one of the few in the Shoukanka who gave books the respect they deserved.

The elder one finally relented. "If it's to help Hisoka-san, then I suppose we can make an exception..."

"But we're doing this for him, and not for a good-for-nothing person like you!!" the younger one snapped.

The two sets of bars slid open.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Tsuzuki bowed before them, grateful that the shameless begging still worked.

xxxxx

The file on Muraki was massive. Tsuzuki didn't bother reading the reports; after all, he'd either written or proofed them in the first place.

He wasn't after background information. What they had was sketchy and incomplete. The source of Muraki's power was still an unsolved mystery. As for a psychological profile, it was much harder than it seemed. Muraki was clearly a psychopath with grandiose and manic thinking, but his erratic behaviour made it impossible for them to predict his next move. With each encounter he claimed to have a different purpose--eternal life, organ trafficking, the resurrection of his hated half brother--yet the resulting death and chaos remained the same.

No, Tsuzuki wasn't after speculations and educated guesses.

He wanted photographs. A photograph was worth a thousand words.

He studied database photos of Muraki in his gleaming white trenchcoat, the breeze ruffling his overlong hair. He looked at photos of Muraki dressed in a tuxedo on the Queen Camellia, as well as in a regular business suit and tie. Beneath the padded shoulders of a jacket, his physique was surprisingly lean. His torso, although broad at the shoulders, tapered down to narrow hips and long legs.

Tsuzuki frowned at the screen, blinking bleary eyes. He could have sworn Muraki possessed a more muscular frame. On the Queen Camellia, Muraki had pinned him to the deck with the weight of his body. With their hands clasped together, fingers entwined, his lips caressed Tsuzuki's cheek before drifting slowly across to his mouth. Tsuzuki was trapped, ensnared...as much by Muraki's dominance as his own helpless fascination.

The most powerful Shinigami in EnMaCho rendered catatonic by the sexual advances of a human...it was shameful. Disgusting. Humiliating. He despised himself for his weakness.

But what could he do about it?

Tsuzuki rested his elbows on the desk, and buried his face in his hands. If only he knew.

xxxxx

"Tsuzuki-san."

A silken male voice crooned his name. There was something oddly familiar about it.

"It almost seems a shame to wake you." A hand stroked his hair, lingered at the nape of his neck. "You look so cute when you're asleep."

Asleep?? Wait a minute...he wasn't supposed to be sleeping!

"No...not asleep." Tsuzuki struggled to lift his head off his forearms. Where was he? His bleary eyes fixed on the computer screen in front of him. A glowing image of Muraki in his white suit smiled wickedly back at him. "I'm...not asleep," he repeated.

"But I was hoping to wake you with a kiss."

Oh no. It couldn't be. It simply couldn't be!

It was. Seated on the desk next to the computer, dressed in his sleek white business suit with one leg crossed over the other, Muraki loomed over him with the same devilish smile curving his lips.

"Would you like a kiss anyway, Tsuzuki-san?"

"NOOOO!!" Tsuzuki jumped away as if he'd been electrocuted--something he'd already experienced earlier that morning--and took refuge behind his chair. "What are you doing here in the library? What are you doing here in Meifu??"

Muraki stood up in one graceful movement, chuckling to himself. "You always ask me the same silly questions. Then again, considering your true age, allowances should be made for your forgetfulness." He pulled out a dozen long-stemmed red roses from thin air. "I am here to make you mine, of course."

Tsuzuki couldn't help the embarrassed flush rising in his cheeks. But the rational part of his mind knew this was a dream. His dreams of Muraki always started with a typically outrageous proposition...but then so did his real-life encounters.

"You're not real." Tsuzuki stood his ground as Muraki approached him, his knuckles white as he clutched the chair. He held his head high, refusing to be intimidated. "You're...you're just a figment of my imagination."

"Just a figment?" Muraki's visible grey eye narrowed, making his expression more sinister than seductive. "Why, Tsuzuki-san, are you issuing a challenge?"

"I'm stating a fact, Muraki! You and your roses...you're just part of my dream!" He grabbed the bouquet and hurled the blossoms to the floor. "All I have to do is wake up and you'll be gone for good."

Muraki carefully pushed the glasses up his nose. "An interesting theory. Why don't we put it to the test? Why don't we see what a figment of your imagination can do, hmm?"

Tsuzuki didn't wait to find out. He needed pain to wake himself out of this nightmare. He lunged for the desk, seized a pair of scissors, and began stabbing at his forearms.

"Wake up! Don't sleep in the library!!" he shouted to himself. "Wake up, you idiot!!"

The point of the scissors made small lacerations in his flesh. A few bled profusely, but all healed within seconds. Damn his Shinigami powers! Tsuzuki grit his teeth, and stabbed the blade into muscle and blood vessels. For all the blood it released, the wounds hurt as much as a mosquito bite.

Muraki seized Tsuzuki's wrist. "Stop it."

"Let go of me!" Tsuzuki stepped away and tried to wrench his wrist free, but Muraki followed him back.

With the scissors held high, they lurched about the room together in a macabre parody of a slow waltz, Tsuzuki's blood dripping on the carpet between them. They were both too preoccupied with each other to notice the roses. With each deliberate step they crushed the delicate blooms underfoot.

Tsuzuki yanked and jerked his arm about, almost welcoming the pain inflicted by Muraki's crushing grip. The steel points wavered precariously in mid-air. Finally, with a flick of his wrist, Tsuzuki drove the scissors into the back of Muraki's hand.

Muraki hissed, but his grip did not waver. "I have no interest in re-enacting the events of Kyoto again."

"Then leave me alone!" Tsuzuki snarled through clenched teeth. "I never asked you to interfere!"

"Beautiful as ever, especially in your anger. You're still my greatest weakness." He eyed their joined hands with amusement. "Most appropriate ne, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki turned to look. Rivulets of blood ran down Muraki's arm, staining the immaculate whiteness of his sleeve. It pooled between the webs of his fingers, staining Tsuzuki's wrist with red as well.

His failed suicide attempts looked uncannily like this. Blood flowed freely, and yet his body still wouldn't die...

"There's no need for you to torture yourself like this." Muraki's breath tickled his ear, his lips brushing against the lobe. It was merely a feather-light caress, yet it sent his pulse into overdrive and shivers down his spine. "Not when I can do a much more effective job for you."

Tsuzuki turned his head away, unwittingly exposing his neck to Muraki's attentions. The scissors fell from his nerveless fingers. The treacherous weakness spread through his body, the all-too-familiar response to Muraki's proximity. "I want to wake up," he whispered, trembling as teeth nibbled the pulse point at the base of his throat. "I want to wake up."

Muraki guided Tsuzuki's chin around to face him. "If you want pain, you only have to ask. If you want pleasure, you only have to ask." His false eye gleamed, now visible in close-up from behind his bangs. "These desires are nothing to be ashamed of. It's through the experience of intense feeling that we know we are truly alive, Tsuzuki-san. Take my word for it--there's no need to go without any longer."

Tsuzuki could not look away. That single eye transfixed him, hypnotised him. The wide vertical diameter gave the eye an eerie, almost unseeing quality. Unlike a normal eye, the entire iris was visible as a circle of luminescent grey. Within its depths was something bizarre: a second iris with a pupil shaped in a narrow slit.

Artificial or not, it looked like no eye--human or demonic--he had ever seen before.

"It's been so long since I've drunk your spiritual energy." Muraki moved closer towards him, his lips parted slightly. "So rich and sweet...one taste was never going to be enough."

The second iris suddenly lit up. Small glowing red lines extended out from its centre. Tsuzuki saw them coalesce into bizarre ornate characters, words that did not correspond to any known human language.

A jolt of recognition passed through him. Anagrams. The boy Hijiri had carried similar markings on his cornea...

A demon's contract!

Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki by the collar and pushed him away to see the entire eye clearly. "Your eye...who did this to you?"

Muraki's good eye widened in surprise. "Why, Tsuzuki-san, I never knew you cared."

"I don't care for you, idiot!! Who marked your eye??"

With a wry smile, Muraki brushed back his bangs to expose his false eye. The inner pupil constricted as the light fell upon it, forming a narrow line. "Definitely your memory is not what it was. Don't you recognise the signature?"

"No. Why should I?" He'd encountered enough demons to last several lifetimes. Why should the signature of one mean any more than another? "Enough of the games, Muraki. Tell me who you've made the contract with."

Muraki shook him off, suddenly bored. "You are the one playing games. When you are ready to come to me of your own free will, then we will talk...among other things." He took out a white handkerchief from his breast pocket and calmly wound it around his hand to staunch the bleeding. "I must remember to buy more bleach for my washing. Our encounters are always so messy, ne?"

"You really are mad. Why the hell would I want to come to you?"

"For target practice, perhaps?" Muraki smirked at his joke, and turned away. "Farewell, Tsuzuki-san. If you want to find me, you'll know where to look."

The curt dismissal infuriated Tsuzuki--never mind that he'd wished Muraki gone a few minutes ago. Muraki never acted in a predictable fashion. "Answer me! Which demon did you make a contract with?"

Muraki didn't turn around. Before Tsuzuki's eyes, his glowing white form began to disappear.

"Muraki! Come back, dammit!"

Tsuzuki lunged forward, and brought something much smaller to the ground--something the size of a soccer ball. For one horrible moment, he thought it was Muraki, his head decapitated by the force of the tackle.

It began flapping and squawking. "I can't breathe! I'm being suffocated!"

Thankfully, it sounded nothing like Muraki's voice.

Tsuzuki opened his eyes and found himself sprawled face down on the floor, with something jabbing at his stomach. Relief washed over him. The dream was over!

"Someone's trying to smother me! Help!!!"

He quickly scrambled to his feet. On the floor was the younger Gushoshin, looking slightly squished.

"Tsuzuki-san!! I should have known! Not only do you hate books, you hate librarians too!"

"Gushoshin, I'm so sorry. This is all a terrible mistake. You see, I had a dream that Muraki was here and I thought you were him so--"

"I'm going to tell my brother about this! Attempted assassination of a librarian deserves the highest punishment: eternal banishment from the library!"

"Please, Gushoshin, give me another chance! I beg of you!! I promise it won't ever happen again--"

On the computer monitor, the image of Muraki grinned as if well pleased with itself.

xxxxx


	2. Tatsumi offers some guidance

Updated 15/9/04 with minor changes.

Thanks to Ariss Tenoh and Becky for beta-ing

xxxxx

It didn't take long for Tsuzuki's misdeeds to reach the Shoukanka. The Gushoshin demanded an emergency meeting with Chief Konoe and Tatsumi that afternoon. After much begging on Tsuzuki's part, Hisoka grudgingly agreed to attend for moral support. They all sat in the conference room around the rectangular table: Hisoka sitting next to Tsuzuki, and the Gushoshin staring them down the other side. Chief Konoe and Tatsumi occupied neutral positions adjacent to the two parties.

"Tsuzuki-san must be permanently blacklisted from the library!" the elder Gushoshin squawked at him. "He's a walking menace to book lovers everywhere!"

"That's untrue! Some of my best friends are book lovers. Hisoka?" Tsuzuki grabbed Hisoka in a hug and ruffled his hair. "I'm a good friend, aren't I?"

Hisoka blushed bright red and shoved him away. "I'm not getting involved in this, idiot!"

Tsuzuki almost fell from his chair, but grabbed the table in the nick of time to right himself. "See? See? Only good friends would treat each other in such a familiar way."

"Enough of your antics, Tsuzuki." Chief Konoe rolled his eyes and sighed. "Gushoshin, please explain the events that took place in the library this morning."

The younger Gushoshin puffed out his chest and cleared his throat in dramatic fashion. "As part of my duties as librarian, I was busy returning books to their shelves. I went past Tsuzuki-san a few times, and I saw he was fast sleep." He cast Tsuzuki an accusing look. "As usual."

"What do you mean, 'as usual'? I do research in the library like everyone else. I was only napping because I didn't get any slee--" Tsuzuki stopped, suddenly remembering Hisoka's presence in the room, "--coffee! I didn't get enough coffee! Anyway, the Gushoshin electrocuted me!"

"The library's security system worked this morning as planned," the elder Gushoshin told them. "Thank you, Tatsumi-san, for the funding."

"You're welcome. It was a prudent investment to avoid future budgetary blowouts."

"Tatsumi!" Tsuzuki was almost crying at the betrayal. "You agreed to finance it?"

"Never mind, Tsuzuki-san." Tatsumi patted his shoulder in consolation. "It was for the sake of the accounts."

The door swung open as Watari strode in, blond hair streaming behind him, and 003 perched on his shoulder. "And I invented it! Isn't it brilliant? I call it the short-range anti-shinigami ground defence system!"

Tsuzuki slumped face down on the desk. Nearly everyone was against him. He didn't have a hope of defending himself now.

Watari slapped Tsuzuki on the back. "So, whatcha think of it?"

"It works," Tsuzuki muttered. "Watari, how could you?"

Watari pulled up a seat next to Tsuzuki. "It was a professional and engineering challenge. You mustn't take it personally. The system is targeted against Terazuma too."

"But it's still not enough! Tsuzuki still attacked me inside the library!" The victimised Gushoshin jumped up and down for emphasis.

Tsuzuki lifted his head up, his expression forlorn. "I didn't mean to do it. I was asleep at the time!"

"Asleep?" Konoe queried. "You mean you were sleep walking?"

"He wasn't just walking! He was attacking me!"

Tatsumi raised one sceptical eyebrow. "Sleep attacking?"

"Ah-hah! There is a scientific name for this syndrome!" Watari cried, almost jumping out of his chair in excitement. "Somnambulic epilepsy!"

Everyone stared blankly at him.

Tatsumi began drumming his fingers on the desk. "Can you translate this term for the rest of us?"

"It's a condition in which a subject exhibits normal but involuntary physical behaviour of which he has no subsequent recollection, usually occurring after an epileptic fit. A tricky problem for modern medicine to solve, but I have a new invention that provides the perfect solution--"

"But I don't have epilepsy," Tsuzuki muttered, more to himself than anyone else. It was futile to catch Watari's attention while he was raving about a new invention.

"--I call it the infra-red motion-sensitive bed restraints." Watari seized a notepad, and began scribbling vigorously. "The slightest movement above the bed is detected by the array of infra red beams projected over the mattress. The pressure sensitive mattress locates the limb position of the sleeping subject, triggering the array of steel bars that will clamp the wrists and ankles, rendering him completely immobile within seconds!" He thrust the completed sketch at everyone. It consisted of a stick figure with frazzled hair strapped to a mattress, all four limbs held down by heavy restraints.

Hisoka eyed it doubtfully. "Is this really necessary?"

"Do you have an estimate of the total cost of materials and production?" Tatsumi asked.

The elder Gushoshin peered closely at the drawing. "Can this device be adapted for a chair?"

Chief Konoe frowned. "There's nothing original about this invention, Watari. I've seen something similar in Hakushaku-sama's bedroom."

Watari blushed bright red, then looked at him with narrowed eyes. "And what were _you_ doing in Hakushaku-sama's bedroom, hmm?"

Tsuzuki clenched his hands into fists beneath the table. The weeks of putting up a cheerful front had taken their toll. Shielding his emotions required energy reserves he no longer possessed.

How dare they all talk about him as if he didn't exist? Didn't he even have a say in whether _he_ wanted to be strapped up like a trussed turkey, ready for the roasting?

If Muraki were here, he'd be laughing. Tsuzuki could almost hear the mocking chuckle inside his head.

_Oh Tsuzuki-san, how did he know? Did you tell him about the things we get up to together? This is absolutely perfect for us. My only concern is that it will diminish the excitement of the chase. I know how you like to run...before you let me catch you._

He couldn't take it any longer.

"Enough! Leave me alone, dammit!"

The voice fell silent. So did everyone else in the meeting room.

Tsuzuki blinked. He was standing up, arms braced against the table, his chair lying backwards on the floor. Before him, the assembled Shoukanka staff stared at him in bewildered shock. He cleared his throat, and bowed stiffly before them. "Forgive me, everyone. I...I have some urgent business to attend to."

"Tsuzuki?" It was Hisoka's voice, soft with concern. "What is it?"

Tsuzuki forced a semblance of a smile to his lips. "Please be my representative while I'm absent. I trust you to make decisions on my behalf."

Without a backward glance, he stepped over his chair and strode from the room.

xxxxx

A few hours later, Tatsumi found him sitting beneath the sakura trees that surrounded the reflection pool outside the main EnmaCho building, elbows propped on a table. Tsuzuki was dressed in his long trenchcoat and vest, dark glasses shielding his eyes from the orange glow of the afternoon sun: a gloomy figure in black amidst the pale pink sakura petals swirling around him. A gentle breeze rustled the branches overhead, causing more of the delicate blossoms to fall to the ground. For a moment, he lifted his head to watch them, before returning to the silent contemplation of the table in front of him.

Tatsumi took a seat at the same table. To his surprise, he saw that Tsuzuki held a fuda in one hand.

Tsuzuki didn't look up. "So what's the verdict? Do you think Watari's latest invention is another prudent investment for the Shoukanka?"

"Everyone is worried about you. I came to see if you were all right."

Tsuzuki's hand tightened on the paper charm. "I don't want them to worry. I can look after myself." He took a deep breath in, then threw the fuda with startling violence. It transformed into a growling wolf spirit that lunged into the pool with a loud splash.

Tatsumi raised his brows. This was the shinigami version of skimming stones. "What are you doing?"

Tsuzuki withdrew another fuda from his breast pocket. "Practising." He threw it in the same direction as the first. A white swift flew into the pool so fast it only raised a few ripples on the water's surface.

Tatsumi snorted. He was not a patient man by nature, and waiting for answers was trying what little of the virtue he still possessed. He grabbed Tsuzuki's hand before he could pull out another fuda. "I am here to help you, whether you believe it or not. But I can't help if I don't know what's wrong!"

He felt Tsuzuki's hand twitch, then become still.

"I don't want to be a burden to the Shoukanka."

"Who said you were?"

Tsuzuki looked at him directly for the first time. Even from behind dark glasses, Tatsumi couldn't miss the unspoken accusation.

"The Shoukanka has incurred significant expenses arising from damage to our infrastructure," Tatsumi acknowledged. "But you are not solely to blame."

A wry smile touched Tsuzuki's lips. "But my powers were directly responsible for the destruction." He lowered his gaze to their hands, his expression serious again. "I was employed by DaiOh-sama as a Shinigami because of my powers. But they've only caused trouble and pain for others, haven't they?"

"That's untrue. Have you forgotten the good deeds you have performed? There are always evil forces interfering with the land of the living, manipulating human lives for their own purposes. Strong magic--even harnessed to provide brutal force--is often the only way to dispel their influence. You have no reason to be ashamed of the power you wield. You should regard it as the source of your strength."

"Strength? Or do you mean weakness?" Tsuzuki withdrew from Tatsumi's touch, and used the free hand to cradle his forehead. "Tatsumi, you of all people know how erratic my power can be. It can tear a rampaging demon to smithereens or blow up all of EnmaCho. Again." The last word was spoken with heavy irony. "Come to think of it, the Shoukanka has every reason to be terrified of me and my powers. Don't waste your time worrying about my welfare."

"Concern cannot be turned on and off like a tap! We worry because we care. To dismiss our feelings as if they don't matter is an act of selfishness unworthy of you."

Tsuzuki's shoulders slumped as if he'd been physically struck. "You're right. I'm sorry." The words came easily to his lips. After all, he'd spent his entire existence repeating those words.

_I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry for taking your life away. I'm sorry for failing to protect your life. I'm sorry for forgetting to buy kasutera in Nagasaki. I'm sorry for overdrawing my expenses. I'm sorry for failing this assignment. I'm sorry for letting loose the shikigami and setting EnmaCho on fire while I was having a nervous breakdown..._

"I'm sorry, too," Tatsumi said. "I didn't mean to speak so harshly."

Tsuzuki watched as sakura petals fell on the table. "Do you see how fragile these flowers are? A brief gust of wind, and they all fall down. I crushed many of them underfoot when I came to sit out here." He picked one up and crushed it in his fist. When he opened his fingers, it was crumpled beyond recognition. "See? Like everything I touch, it falls to pieces."

"Please, Tsuzuki. Don't torture yourself like this. Don't dwell in the past."

Tsuzuki clenched his hand into a fist again. "As long as I work here, I will always be in danger of hurting someone."

"It doesn't make us care any less, Tsuzuki. We know you do your best--"

Tsuzuki pulled off his glasses, suddenly impatient. "But don't you get it? My best isn't good enough! Your accounts are in the red because of me. The Gushoshin want to banish me for eternity--"

"Three hundred years. We've persuaded them to accept a reduced sentence."

"--and then there's Hisoka. As much as he is attached to me, he doesn't realise how vulnerable he is to my feelings. If I so much as even think about a fierce emotion in his presence, his brain short-circuits!" Tsuzuki looked away, but not before Tatsumi glimpsed the pain in his eyes. "My emotional shielding is limited at best. I don't know how long I can confine myself from his empathic powers."

"Why didn't you come to me? You know I am here for you." Tatsumi reached up to touch his cheek. "Physical objects are not the only things that can be sheltered in shadows."

"I know." Tsuzuki closed his eyes, drawn in spite of himself. He could feel the pull of Tatsumi's shadow magic, whispering promises of shelter and security. The shadows dimmed traumatic memories, obscured the horror of nightmares, blunted the edges of pain. This was the comfort Tatsumi had offered him before when they were partners, and again in Kyoto: a temporary peace from the voices of self-recrimination.

"Come closer." Tatsumi leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. He gently turned Tsuzuki's face towards him. "Let me help you. Let my power be your power."

Tsuzuki could feel the shadows lapping at the edges of his consciousness. Already he could feel his frustration and anger receding. What had he and Tatsumi been arguing about? It seemed so unimportant now. It was so much easier to forget. Tatsumi would take care of everything. Painful nightmares and memories wrapped in shadows no longer had the power to wound.

It was the perfect anaesthetic for his conscience. Until it wore off again...or the nightmares returned.

He opened his eyes, and gently pried Tatsumi's fingers from his face. "Thank you for the offer, Tatsumi."

"Tsuzuki?" Tatsumi blinked, surprised. "Don't you want...?"

He clasped Tatsumi's hands, a small gesture to ease the rejection. "Light will always illuminate darkness. This time there is no escape."

"What...what are you talking about?"

"Muraki." Tsuzuki lowered his voice, but there was no hiding the shame and loathing infused in the three syllables.

"Muraki? There hasn't been a case involving him for months. We've had no reports--"

"He knows he no longer has to kill to catch my attention." Tsuzuki let go and slumped back in his chair. "I've been having dreams...visions of him."

"Kyoto was a particularly difficult case. It's inevitable that you will have nightmares." Tatsumi reached out to touch him again. "If you'd just let me help, I can ease the memories for you."

"But this is different. It's as if he's communicating with me. He...he tells me new information--"

"Or maybe that's what you'd like to believe." Tatsumi's voice was flat as he withdrew his hands. His expression, once warm, was now a blank mask.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You still feel guilt over what happened in Kyoto. Maybe in making up these dreams of him, you can salve your conscience by imagining he is still alive and well." His blue eyes, sharp and clear, bored into Tsuzuki's. "But surely you must see the absurdity of it! How is he, a human, able to manipulate your dreams? And why? Why would he suddenly want to communicate with you?"

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze, suitably chastened. When phrased so bluntly, it sounded stupid to him as well. But his dreams of Muraki before Kyoto were different: romantic dreams involving roses and marriage proposals and ardent declarations of lust, equal parts nightmare and fantasy. They had very little basis in real life.

But these later dreams--and especially the one in the library--required a greater imagination than he possessed. The eye with the double iris...and the dancing characters written in red...

_Don't you recognise the signature?_

They were clues. Tantalising clues.

"We still have no idea where his powers come from or what has become of him," Tsuzuki began, doing his best to match Tatsumi's impartial tone. "How can a mortal summon spirits for assistance? There must be some demonic force assisting him in his work. It requires further investigation."

Tatsumi shook his head. "Maybe so, but not by you. Your job as a Shinigami involves the investigation of delays in the JuOhCho court proceedings. You have no jurisdiction to pursue him unless Muraki is directly implicated in a current case in Second Block."

"So what are we supposed to do? Sit on our hands until he strikes again?" Tsuzuki stood up, a quick impatient gesture that made him tower over Tatsumi. "If I am indeed the most powerful Shinigami in EnMaCho, then I should be the logical choice to bring him to justice!"

"If you truly believe that, then you've forgotten your place," Tatsumi said icily. "Tsuzuki-san, you are given privileges as a Shinigami by EnmaCho for the purposes of serving the Shoukanka. Your powers are not to be misused for personal gain--or vendettas."

"I'm well aware of my responsibilities." Tsuzuki pulled out two fuda from his breast pocket, took aim and threw them in the air. They formed two serpents that tumbled in the air, spewing fire and smoke until they met the same soggy fate in the lake. He watched the display with clinical detachment, arm still outstretched in mid-throw. "My powers were given to me for a purpose. I owe it to DaiOh-sama to utilise them to my full potential." He dropped his arm and turned to Tatsumi, his lips twisted in a wry smile. "I doubt the destruction of JuOhCho and sending the Shoukanka into debt is a proper use of my powers, huh?"

"No, Tsuzuki-san, it isn't," Tatsumi said slowly. He watched Tsuzuki, standing tall and alone, his lean-muscled figure tense with suppressed energy, as if seeing him for the first time. All that power in desperate need of an outlet...

"I thought so." Tsuzuki folded his arms and returned to his contemplation of the lake. Steam slowly rose from its rippling surface, the remnants of the extinguished spirits. "Muraki is still out there. We know he survived under the protection of some mysterious influence. I have...suspicions...that he owes his power to a demon, most likely via a contract. Surely this matter is worthy of EnmaCho's interest."

"If--and that's a big 'if'--your suspicions have their basis in fact, then we would have to investigate. Do you have any evidence to support your claims?"

"No. It was something I saw...in a vision...or a dream." How lame it sounded, but it was all he had to go on. Were they fragments dropped by his subconscious or a direct link to Muraki himself? He wasn't sure anymore. Whatever it was, he knew he had to find Muraki again. It was time to end their unfinished business once and for all.

And this time, things would be different. He wouldn't let Muraki use his past against him any longer.

But EnMaCho didn't trust him, did they? He was their black sheep, the rogue Shinigami who could turn on them at any moment. He was only fit to play the scapegoat and the butt of jokes...and the occasional display of fuda magic and shikigami power.

He reached for his breast pocket again, but stopped when Tatsumi grasped his wrist.

"You've practised enough for today, Tsuzuki-san."

"I have?"

"Yes. You're going to need your fuda if you're pursuing Muraki, right?"

"Tatsumi..." Tsuzuki's jaw dropped as the words sank in.

Another chance. Tatsumi was giving him another chance!

He clasped Tatsumi's hand in a firm handshake. "Thank you. Thank you!" Overjoyed, he hugged the secretary for good measure.

"For as long as I've known you," Tatsumi murmured, "I never could refuse you anything." He looked at Tsuzuki, his expression grave.

"I promise to do my best not to let you down!" Tsuzuki assured him. He straightened his shoulders and lifted his head with new determination. "This time I'll bring Muraki in once and for all."

xxxxx


	3. Muraki dreaming

Thanks to Ariss Tenoh and Becca for beta-ing. And thanks to Ulla for catching a continuity error. 

Lemon scene ahead. Mild violence and bondage.

With his decision made earlier that afternoon, Tsuzuki had a new sense of purpose. Each dream was a potential source of new clues and information that could lead him closer to Muraki. So before going to bed that night, Tsuzuki placed a pen and notepad by his nightstand, ready to record his dream the moment he woke up. He dressed in his usual sleeping attire, a T-shirt and boxer shorts, then tucked himself in for the night.

The darkness enfolded him and, for once, he welcomed it.

He dreamt of a rose garden by the light of a full moon. He was pruning the barren bushes with a pair of shears, carefully cutting the branches back so they would grow vigorously when spring came around. One of the things he had missed about being a Shinigami was that he could no longer do any gardening. Plants bloomed all year round in Meifu. Human--or non-human--intervention was not required.

He sniffed the air. He could smell the sweet scent of roses. But where was it coming from? He looked around, but he was surrounded by rows of bare thorn bushes.

"I promised you roses, didn't I, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki stood up and whirled around, still holding the shears. There was no one to be seen. "Muraki? Where are you?"

"Unfortunately, this isn't the season for them. It was hard enough finding that last bouquet for you."

The voice seemed to be coming from above him, but Tsuzuki couldn't see anyone in the garden. "Stop hiding like a coward and come out!"

"You're the one who's hiding here." This time the voice was at his right ear, the breath warm and heavy over his skin. "Come out and join me."

Tsuzuki scratched his ear, distracted by the ticklish sensation. Was Muraki pretending to be invisible? "Where are you?"

There was no answer.

"Muraki!"

He had to be somewhere nearby. Tsuzuki took a step forward…and the next thing he knew he was falling into pitch darkness. He kicked out violently, a reflex response…

And awoke to find himself in his bed. It was still night, with silvery moonlight from the window the only source of illumination.

Relief washed over him. It was over! He sighed in relief, and then he detected the scent, much stronger than before. And the warm weight pressed against him. With a sinking feeling of dread, he realised he wasn't the only one in this bed…

"I'm so pleased you could make it."

Tsuzuki slowly turned his head. His fingers clutched at the blankets, instinctively pulling them up to his chest.

It was Muraki, this time in the flesh, lying on his side with his head propped up on one elbow. The moonlight bleached his features to ghostly white, making him appear like a statue of alabaster. The white yukata did nothing to conceal the broad expanse of his smooth chest.

"What are you doing in my bed?? Get out, dammit!"

Muraki's lips curved into a mocking smile. "I'm coming out, exactly as you requested." He lifted up one hand and opened his palm, scattering rose petals all over Tsuzuki. "The next best thing to the fresh blossoms, don't you agree?"

The petals fell on his face, obscuring his vision. Their colour was deep red, the colour of venous blood. The cloying sweet scent filled his nostrils, making him dizzy.

"I don't want them. Stop it." He shook his head vigorously. Their velvet softness drifted from his face and neck to rest on the pillow. A few remained tangled in his hair.

"They look beautiful on you," Muraki murmured. He removed his glasses and placed it on the nightstand. "I shouldn't have discarded that other bouquet so hastily in the library, ne? But you offered me such an irresistible challenge. How could I resist?"

Through the silver curtain of Muraki's bangs, Tsuzuki could just make out the false eye as a dim red glow. He had to get a closer look at it. Unfortunately, that meant getting close to Muraki himself. He suppressed the instinctive urge to shove him away and run for his life. He knew how to make polite conversation, even with serial murderers. "Because of your antics, I've been banned from entering the library for three hundred years."

Muraki chuckled. "Three hundred years? A blink of an eye in the life of an immortal." His fingers slipped beneath the collar of Tsuzuki's shirt to trace his collarbone. "In any case, it doesn't matter. The answers you seek will not be found there."

Tsuzuki pushed his hand away. "You want me to find you, is that it?"

"But of course." Muraki lowered his lips to brush Tsuzuki's, a velvet caress as delicate as the rose petals he had strewn over the bed. "We have much unfinished business between us."

Tsuzuki's heart hammered in his chest, desperate to break free from his ribcage. All he could see was the glowing red eye and the silver hair…and then he must have shut his eyes because there was only darkness and the heat of Muraki's lips over his. Tsuzuki made a choking noise as Muraki's tongue swept inside, sliding against the inside of his mouth with languid strokes.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't move, not with the weight of Muraki's body pressing down on him. Beneath the skill of Muraki's touch, he was drowning. There was no escape from the assault. Muraki parted his trembling mouth with ridiculous ease, lashed the roof of his palate and the soft inside of his cheek, teasing his tongue into something dangerously close to compliance. Tsuzuki found himself drinking something rich and sweet, more delicious than the finest dark chocolate.

Above him, Muraki's lips slanted against his, curving into a smile. One of his thighs slid against Tsuzuki's crotch, seeking a more intimate type of connection. "Tsuzuki-san…" His baritone voice lingered over the name, relishing the sound of each syllable. "I want you so much."

"Enough!" With a supreme effort of will, Tsuzuki grasped Muraki by the shoulders and shoved him way. His arms trembled with the effort, and it wasn't just from lifting his heavier frame.

Muraki sighed, shaking his head in amused resignation. "Why do you continue to fight? Why do you deny yourself something you obviously--"

"Shut up!" He clamped down on the self-loathing that threatened to well up inside him. Not now. Focus on Muraki. He had to get a better look at that eye. "Haven't you got anything better to do than molest me? Isn't this a step down from your plans for immortality?"

"But molesting you is so much fun," Muraki replied lightly. He sat up and casually ran his fingers through his hair. "And please remember, I'm not the type of person to trespass on private property without an invitation as you did on the Queen Camellia. Such impoliteness is inconceivable to a gentleman of my standing."

Tsuzuki jack-knifed to a sitting position. "But it was for work! That doesn't count. And when have I ever invited you into my bedroom?"

"You allowed me into a place far more intimate." Muraki caressed his jaw, fingers teasing the pulse that pounded at his throat. "Your imagination."

Tsuzuki seized his wrist. "How are you able to do this?"

"Weren't you warned not to make such violent movements, Tsuzuki-san? Have you forgotten about what will happen to you?"

Something cold and hard snapped around Tsuzuki's right wrist: a set of steel manacles.

"Hey! Where did this--"

Another set of manacles snapped around his other wrist. Both manacles pulled him down on the mattress, arms apart in a crucifix position.

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki pulled at them, but they both held tight. "What the hell is this?"

"Watari-san's invention, modified slightly for my purposes. You must give him my compliments for the concept."

Tsuzuki swore and kicked out at Muraki with his feet. "This isn't fair, dammit! Only a bastard like you would choose something as underhanded as this!!"

Muraki stood up and untied the sash of his yukata. With a whisper of sound, it slid off his shoulders. Tsuzuki averted his eyes, but he already knew Muraki was nude beneath the robe. Fear curled in the bottom of his stomach. He knew from past experience where this was going. If he were going to get out of this, he'd have to try a different tactic.

"Where's the challenge in tying me up like this?" he asked. "You know my magic never works in dreams. Or are you so afraid of me?"

It was impossible to see the moonlight anymore-- it was blocked out the shadow of Muraki's body as he loomed over Tsuzuki. Only a small fraction of light was visible as it fell on the breadth of his broad shoulders, making the pale flesh gleam in the dark.

"I consider it a wise precaution in view of your previous…handiwork." Muraki lifted one arm to run his fingers down his side, revealing the ugly jagged scar running along his lower ribcage. "Let me assure you, even immobilised you are still a challenge." He sat down by the side of the bed and reached up to caress the dark overlong hair from Tsuzuki's face.

Tsuzuki froze, stunned at the gentleness. What was Muraki up to now?

Muraki pressed a chaste kiss to Tsuzuki's forehead, a gesture almost fatherly in its tenderness. "Have you ever wondered why your magic doesn't work here while mine does, Tsuzuki-san?"

"You're manipulating my dreams. You've dictated what I can and can't do."

Muraki's lips traced the curve of his brow. "That's not entirely true. All your reactions and feelings are entirely your own." A warm tongue darted out, delicately lapping at one of his eyelids.

Tsuzuki shook his head. He didn't want this facsimile of affection. "Don't…don't do that."

Muraki ignored him. He held Tsuzuki's face between his hands and lapped at the other eyelid. "You're powerless because you've chosen to be that way," he murmured. "Deep down, you want this as much as I do."

Something cold and heavy settled in the pit of Tsuzuki's stomach. "You're lying."

Muraki lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "Believe what you like. I was merely offering an explanation." He bent his head to the hollow of Tsuzuki's throat and pressed biting kisses along its length.

"No." Tsuzuki trembled in spite of himself, a mixture of fear and arousal licking at his nerve endings. He writhed against the restraints, but it only succeeded in increasing his awareness of Muraki's weight pressing him into the mattress, hard and hot and heavy against him.

His lips traced a path along Tsuzuki's collarbone, sliding over the cotton of his shirt when it blocked his way. With unerring accuracy, Muraki latched on a taut nipple with his mouth, teasing the hard nub with his teeth and tongue through the cloth.

Tsuzuki shuddered, his teeth gritted against the moan that threatened to escape. The wet friction of the cloth against sensitised flesh made his insides ache with longing. Looking down, he saw his nipple peaking against the cooling damp material, as if begging for more stimulation. But Muraki had already closed his mouth around the other nipple, biting and suckling at it with greedy eagerness.

Hopelessly Tsuzuki shook his head and pulled against the bonds, his body covered in a fine film of sweat. He was being devoured. His body was a dish for Muraki's delectation, something to be savoured…and later discarded when he was finished. For a brief moment, he thought of Hisoka and the elaborate markings that adorned his flesh. Was this what Hisoka experienced before he was cursed?

Muraki noticed Tsuzuki's distraction, and it displeased him. His hands slid beneath the shorts and pulled them lower, before curving around his hip and buttock, sharp nails digging into flesh.

Tsuzuki hissed and arch up, the throbbing pleasure inflicted by Muraki's mouth forgotten by the startling pain. Muraki used the movement to slide the shorts past Tsuzuki's hips and down to his knees.

"No!" Tsuzuki twisted and tried to kick out, but the band of the shorts hobbled his movements. "Dammit, Muraki!"

Muraki rolled off him to dodge the blow, but his hand began to caress the skin he'd marked. "Hush," he murmured, as if soothing a frightened child. "The balance of opposites is necessary for harmony. With great pain will come great pleasure. You must learn to be patient, Tsuzuki-san." He pulled up Tsuzuki's shirt to his armpits, scattered a handful of rose petals over his bare torso, then gently rubbed them against his chest and abdomen in slow circles.

The scent of the petals eased the edge off Tsuzuki's anger; it was sweeter than any flower he knew. Even as his muscles nervously twitched as Muraki's hand slid lower, his senses delighted in the velvet texture of the petals, the knowing touch against his skin, and the blending of his own unique body scents with the essential oil of the roses.

"That's it," Muraki murmured. "Feel their softness. A body as beautiful as yours needs no other adornment." His stroking hand reached down to grasp Tsuzuki's cock.

Tsuzuki jerked as if electrocuted. His breath came in short, panting gasps. He could feel himself leap into Muraki's palm, his cock swelling eagerly as it was skilfully pumped. Much as he despised Muraki's actions, his body was now revelling in his touch, shameless in its desire for more. Pleasure coursed through his veins, pooling in his groin. The flush of desire suffused his face, spreading down to his chest. His thighs fell apart slightly, inviting more of the doctor's touch.

Lying on his side, his head pillowed by one of Tsuzuki's restrained arms, Muraki watched with slitted eyes. He flicked at the head with his thumb, circling the sensitive crown before resuming the steady strokes. He could feel Tsuzuki trembling, hips shifting against the sheets in impatience, wanting more. But he chose to ignore it, for he had a timetable of his own.

He pressed his lips against Tsuzuki's ear. "I want you to feel, not fight. Focus on what I'm doing to you, here and now, in this bed. Does it feel good, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki clenched his eyes shut. "Stop it," he whispered. "You've made your point…"

"Have I?" Muraki obligingly released him and sat up. "But I haven't even begun yet." He tugged off Tsuzuki's shorts and seated himself between his legs. With a wicked smile, he lifted one of Tsuzuki's knees up and began nibbling along his inner thigh, a buyer sampling a piece of fresh fruit. He stroked along the tense quadriceps and hamstrings, his nails lightly scraping the skin as he stroked higher and higher.

Tsuzuki watched, helplessly fascinated. He was drawn to the graceful sinuous motion of the muscles of Muraki's shoulder and arms, supporting and stroking his leg. He caught the flash of teeth before Muraki sank them into his thigh and bit the taut flesh. Even as he felt the pain of the bite, a part of him felt curiously detached from the seductive spectacle. It didn't satisfy the hunger for completion. His neglected cock throbbed against his abdomen, a graceful arc of frustrated desire.

Distracted by the sight of himself, Tsuzuki turned away and caught sight of his manacled wrist. The flesh was red and raw, chafed by the metal. The pain was a welcome distraction from the ache in his groin.

Perhaps Muraki realised what he was doing, for he began inflicting his own brand of pleasure-pain. His mouth glided up Tsuzuki's inner thigh, deliberately allowing his teeth to graze the delicate flesh. Tsuzuki trembled, trapped between dread and desire as the lips came within inches of his crotch. He could feel the hot breath fanning his cock, the silver head bent over him in the moonlight, almost ghostly except for the powerful musculature of his shoulders and torso.

Finally Muraki took mercy on him. He cupped the testicles, tugging them down from where they pressed tight against Tsuzuki's body, then fondling them as they rested in his palm.

Tsuzuki groaned aloud. It was torture, sensual torture where pleasure and pain blurred together, each indistinguishable from the other. He arched up again, this time in invitation, every lineament of his finely muscled body tense and gleaming with sweat. His mind was too far gone to register emotions such as guilt and shame. It had been subsumed by his longstanding weakness for physical gluttony. To long for food was at least socially acceptable; to long for this…it was sheer depravity.

His cock jerked, arrowing up from his abdomen. It seemed to be reaching for Muraki, silently begging for his touch. Tsuzuki could feel it swelling up to the point of exquisite pain, an agony so sweet it was almost impossible to bear. But even as he squirmed and shook his head, his senses gloried at Muraki's skill in drawing out his pleasure like this. Was Muraki right after all? Was he complicit in his own helplessness? Was there no way for him to ever gain the upper hand?

Muraki slid one finger along the head of his cock, collected the precome and brought it to his lips. "Delicious. Such sweetness..." He shut his eyes briefly, his expression like that of a gourmand savouring a much-prized delicacy. When he opened his eyes, the false eye glowed red. "Give me more." He bent over Tsuzuki in one graceful movement, grasped his erection and took him in his mouth.

"Ahhh!" Tsuzuki yanked at the restraints with such force that he drew blood from one his wrists. But he barely noticed, too caught up in the heat and suction and wetness engulfing his cock. He was sheathed and released, again and again, a kaleidoscope of conflicting sensations that obliterated all else. He was being taken deep, so deep he could feel the contractions of throat muscles against the head, and then the lips would slide back and send shivers of delight radiating along the length of his shaft.

Tsuzuki could barely think, let alone breathe. The way Muraki was sucking him off with such single-minded intensity, devouring his flesh with avaricious glee, hands lifting his pelvis higher, almost tossing Tsuzuki's knees over his shoulders to draw him into closer to his mouth…Tsuzuki had never been the recipient of such focused physical attention. He watched with dazed eyes as Muraki lifted his head to draw breath. His false eye shone a brilliant red, as bright as a laser, almost blinding in its intensity, before he lowered his mouth again--a twisted imitation of a babe hungry for its mother's teat.

Through the haze of building orgasm, something gnawed at the back of Tsuzuki's mind. This wasn't any ordinary blowjob. Muraki was getting more out of this than sexual manipulation.

The glowing red eye with its dancing characters now brighter than ever…

He had to see it.

He looked at his right wrist, now bleeding profusely against the white of the sheet. It didn't matter. He was a Shinigami. Blood meant nothing. Pain meant nothing. What was a steel restraint to someone who lived outside the laws of human science?

Tsuzuki gritted his teeth and pulled against the restraints in earnest. He welcomed the pain, a necessary distraction from the pleasure imposed by Muraki's voracious mouth. His shoulder muscles cramped with the effort. He lifted his neck up, every line of his throat exposed. The skin was tearing, giving way to flesh and tendons. There was the crunching sound of metal crushing bone. Tears filled his eyes, and he shook them away. Both arms burned, as if it they were on fire. His shoulders and chest muscles ached so much…

Abruptly the restraints to his right wrist snapped open, setting him free. His wrist had been worn to the bone, with blood oozing from the ripped flesh, but he hardly noticed the pain any more. Roughly he yanked Muraki up the bed to meet his gaze.

"I'm not here to feed you," he growled, eyes flashing with menace. His voice, thick and hoarse, sounded alien to his own ears. "My spiritual energy is mine."

"Tsuzuki-san…" Muraki blinked, his good eye still glazed with passion, his false eye glowing red. "I didn't know you minded. You never did before."

Tsuzuki hauled him closer, until Muraki was lying atop him, rose petals crushed between them. "Now you know," he muttered. He yanked at the other restraint until it snapped free, then ran his other bloody hand through Muraki's hair to expose the false eye. "No more games. Tell me who gave this to you."

Muraki smiled. "Why not read for yourself? But if you want a close-up look, you must give me something in return." He studied Tsuzuki's wrist, admiring the rivulets of blood running along his arm. Already the tendons and muscle were knitting together before his very eyes. "Your recuperative powers were always amazing." He turned his head to lick at the blood along his forearm, uncaring of Tsuzuki's tightening grip on his hair.

"I'm not your mobile food source." Tsuzuki extricated himself from Muraki's lips. "Tell me what you want in return."

"Where do I start? I want so many things." Muraki slid his hands down Tsuzuki's chest, his nails as sharp as thorns as they made intricate trails over his skin. "But for now, your body will do. Your beautiful body, willing and obedient to my whims." He shifted slightly, and his cock, heavy and hard with arousal, nudged against Tsuzuki's own neglected erection.

Tsuzuki trembled, an involuntary shiver of desire. He still wanted Muraki's touch. It would be lunacy to turn him down. Let the doctor do what he pleased with his traitorous body; in return he would get to study the anagrams printed on the doctor's false eye...and maybe find a way to crush Muraki's power for good.

That knowledge gave him new determination. He loosened his hold over the silver hair. With his fingertips he traced the velvet softness behind one ear, brushing past the earlobe with its ruby stud earring, before curling his fingers around Muraki's nape. He pressed the flat of his palm against the exposed throat, a silent challenge of his own. "I accept."

Muraki tilted his head, arching his neck into Tsuzuki's palm like a cat demanding a caress. "I knew you would."

With the ease of familiarity, he reached under the pillow and pulled out a small bottle of oil. This bottle was never present when Tsuzuki searched his bed the next day; it was something Muraki managed to conjure up each night along with his bouquets of roses.

"Is that something else you've raided from my imagination?" Tsuzuki asked.

Humour glinted in grey eyes. "When we meet again in the land of the living, you can find out for yourself." He uncapped the bottle. "Now take off your shirt. Let me see the body you've promised me."

Reluctantly Tsuzuki pulled the shirt over his head and tugged it off. The wounds at his wrists were now shallow ulcers, but at least they weren't bleeding any more.

For a moment, Muraki simply stared, drinking in the sight of him. "One day, I'll have you in my bed for real," he murmured. He poured the oil on the shallow concavity of Tsuzuki's abdomen, allowing it to pool within his navel, and spread over the flat planes of his stomach. It felt ticklish, but not unpleasantly so. "No bargains, no deals. No guilt-induced catatonic states. I wait for the day when you'll come to me of your own free will."

Tsuzuki ignored him. He was mentally bracing himself for what was about to happen. He focused on his breathing, taking slow deep breaths to relax himself. But in spite of his nerves, the ache in groin remained. His cock still remained erect, defiantly seeking the completion that it was previously denied.

Muraki guided his knees up, and slid his fingers inside without warning. Tsuzuki panted raggedly against the mattress as his prostate was stroked with determined, deliberate strokes. Skilled didn't begin to describe it. His fragile self-control was useless. Sparks of pleasure flared from that one spot and spread to his groin, making his cock lengthen to an almost agonising degree. Small stifled moans left his throat as he began to rock in time, once again ensnared by his own desire.

Dimly he wondered why Muraki was going to such trouble, especially in view of his partiality for violence and murder. Had he shown such consideration to Hisoka when he'd cursed and raped him? Tsuzuki would never know, but he suspected Muraki, fastidious and particular when it came to physical comforts, would have prepared his victim well.

As he was being prepared now?

No. This was different. He wasn't a victim. He had chosen to do this. His choice. He had an agenda of his own.

"If you are going to be obedient, then you must focus only on me, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki knelt over him, watching his face as he continued the finger-fucking. "I am to be the sole person in your thoughts."

Tsuzuki arched as the skilful fingers found a particularly sensitive spot, his grasping hands crushing petals and bed linen together. "I never promised…my mind. Only…my body."

"Hmm." Muraki tilted his head thoughtfully. "True." He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself over Tsuzuki, his heavier frame pressing him deeper into the mattress, driving the breath from Tsuzuki's lungs. "Then give your body to me, as you promised." He filled Tsuzuki in one powerful, all encompassing stroke.

Tsuzuki groaned softly. The thick hardness of the cock pushed inside him, relentless and punishing. He tensed automatically as Muraki moved deeper, his muscles rippling in protest around the invading bulk.

Above him, Muraki trembled and lowered his head. A drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto Tsuzuki's chest. Slowly he withdrew, then slammed home again, setting up a fierce rhythm as he thrust again and again into Tsuzuki's yielding flesh.

Tsuzuki grimaced, but he willingly met it. What was pain to a Shinigami, to one with an immortal body? Even this type of intimate invasion would leave no scar, no wound, no physical reminder of what had passed between them.

As for the memories…he wouldn't worry about that now. He would deal with them later.

So he embraced the relentless fucking, the driving thrusts of Muraki's body. The burning pain cleansed his mind of the haze of arousal, and allowed him to focus on his own objective.

Muraki was bent over him, broad shoulders delineated by moonlight. His strong arms hooked under Tsuzuki's knees, positioning him so that he could thrust even more deeply. All he could see of Muraki's face was a high cheekbone and a hint of temple beneath his bangs. His eyes were shut, silver eyelashes flush against pale white skin. The rest of his face was cast in shadow.

"Muraki," Tsuzuki muttered, his voice thick. He lifted his hands to the graceful column of throat, forced his jaw up. "Let me study your false eye, as you promised."

Muraki obeyed. He ceased his thrusts, his arm muscles tense as he remained poised over him, his entire body coiled tight as a spring. The false eye remained dim, sheltered in the shadow of Muraki's profile, but it suddenly flared when it saw Tsuzuki. The outer iris dilated to reveal more of the glowing inner iris inside. The light faded to form a red spiral with twelve distinct points. They began to pulse, forming bizarre shapes and characters as they flashed in turn.

Tsuzuki watched, hypnotised. It did not seem as elaborate as Hijiri's circular contract, but the way the characters shifted shape was extremely bizarre. He had never seen anything like it before. They were more than imprinted words. They were alive in their own right, imbued with the ability to form their own eerie message. Memorising them all was impossible without a reference point. He'd need the help of Watari and the Gushoshin to decipher it.

"It fascinates you, doesn't it? If only I'd known sooner. I was using the blood of others to call you to me when I should have used my own."

Tsuzuki was too focused on the mysterious anagrams to pay attention to Muraki's words. "Open your eyes wider. I need to see more."

"Hmm." Muraki frowned, annoyed at being upstaged. "I think you've seen enough for tonight." He began to rock his hips again, but this time his movements were slow, almost languid. The violence of earlier was absent, replaced by something far more disturbing…

Tsuzuki tightened his grip around Muraki's throat, nails digging into the nape of his neck. "You promised," he growled. His knees clamped around Muraki's waist in an abortive attempt to keep him still. "My body in exchange for your eye. That was our deal--" Abruptly he stiffened, the breath trapped in his lungs, the rest of his words forgotten. The cock inside him was now sliding along his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through his groin.

Above him, Muraki smiled. "I've changed my mind. Stunning as your body is, I want much, much more."

"Bastard." But it sounded like an endearment when spoken in Tsuzuki's gasping voice. His body arched off the mattress, welcoming Muraki as he unerringly found that sensitive pleasure spot with each thrust. The pain was still there, but it was now overlaid with a pleasure that made him tremble and shiver uncontrollably. Resistance was useless. The muscular strength he normally possessed was gone, replaced by a melting languor that made his limbs heavy and weak.

"Yes…but you want me anyway," Muraki noted with arrogant satisfaction. He buried his face in Tsuzuki's neck, the heat of his mouth branding the unmarked shoulder. As he leaned over Tsuzuki, he tilted the narrow hips even higher, allowing him to thrust deeply once again.

A low groan escaped Tsuzuki's throat. It should have hurt, but it felt incredible. He loosened his grip on Muraki's neck, and clutched his shoulder instead to draw him closer. Through eyes slitted with pleasure, he could see Muraki's back gilded by sweat and moonlight, the lean shoulder and back muscles rippling with fluid grace, while his nerve-endings sang with delight at the steady fucking. A rest of the room was concealed in total darkness. There were no other witnesses to this act of depravity--only Muraki and him writhing on a bed that only existed within his imagination.

Muraki slid one hand between their straining bodies, nails scratching over the skin, a trivial pain he barely noticed. And then he grasped Tsuzuki's straining erection and milked him with frenzied, erratic strokes. It lacked his earlier finesse and skill, but Tsuzuki was too near the edge to care. Overcome with a surfeit of pleasure, he cried out and climaxed. The ecstasy exploded inside him, over him, rushing through his veins. Rational thought was forgotten. Guilt, anger, fear, hatred...these trivial emotions no longer mattered.

Against his shoulder, Muraki made a choked sound and trembled violently as he found his own release. His final thrust made Tsuzuki gasp; it was vicious and relentless, more an act of violence than passion. Finally he withdrew and sank on the mattress next to Tsuzuki, exhausted.

The only sound in the room was their panting breaths. Tsuzuki rolled to his side, glad to take the weight from his sweat-damp back. The room smelt of roses and perspiration and male musk.

After several minutes, Muraki calmly rose to his feet, and picked up his yukata from the floor. His shoulders were marked with several deep scratches. When Tsuzuki looked at his hands, he saw dried blood beneath his nails.

"The next time we meet, it will be even better," Muraki promised as he tied the sash.

"You broke your promise. The next time we meet, I'll gouge your eye out."

"Well, well." Muraki laughed, a rich warm sound that took Tsuzuki by surprise. "I look forward to seeing if you're better at keeping your promises than I am." He picked up his glasses from the nightstand and cast Tsuzuki a sidelong look. "Till we meet again, Tsuzuki-san. Sweet dreams." His physical form slowly faded from view, until it was as insubstantial as the moonlight coming through the window.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. He'd achieved nothing. His body may have been satiated, but he was no closer to learning about Muraki's powers. Looking at the eye wasn't enough. He needed a photograph...or a sample of the false eye itself. Maybe gouging it out was the only option.

He curled himself up in a ball. The sheets were damp and cold. His mind was strangely blank. His muscles ached all over as if he'd beaten. And there was an itching sensation over his chest…

He looked down at himself. Vermillion red lines as fine as silk thread extended from both wrists to his shoulders, criss-crossing his skin to form a delicate web of shallow lacerations. Over his torso were thick red lines drawn with broad brushstrokes forming elaborate swirls and embellishments that extended from his collarbone to his hips.

A curse? A curse like the one Hisoka bore?

Tsuzuki stumbled out of bed and went to the mirror to study his nude figure, his heart pounding. Hisoka's body had been cursed with a pattern meaningless to human eyes save for the bizarrely ornate nature of the lines twining around his body. But the reflection in the mirror was different. The red lines on his chest and abdomen formed distinct characters written in overlapping fashion, a highly stylised method of ancient writing.

It was a message.

Tsuzuki stared at it for several seconds, deciphering what he could and memorising the rest. He turned around, but his back was smooth and unmarked. The markings were the colour of fresh blood. Slowly he drew his finger over one of the characters. His fingertip was wet with red when he had finished. He wiped at the lines with both hands, desperately trying to wipe them away. His palms were red, but the lines remained unchanged.

This was a dream. A Shinigami's body could never be marked by human intervention. The lines weren't real. Tomorrow when he awoke, they would be gone.

He went back to bed and covered himself with the sheets.

_Remember who you are. You're a Shinigami. Pain means nothing. Pleasure means nothing._

He repeated the words to himself until he fell asleep.


	4. Afternoon tea in Nagasaki

Two days later, Tsuzuki deciphered most of the message by himself. There were some jumbled characters that made little sense. Another anagram. Maybe it was a signature.

Asking Hisoka for help in this unofficial investigation was out of the question. Hisoka didn't need to be reminded of his past again, not when he finally seemed to be ridding himself of the curse at last. So he kept a safe distance from his empathic partner, just in case Hisoka picked up on his chaotic thoughts.

This was between him and Muraki. As long as it was not an official investigation instigated by JuOhCho, then there was no need for Hisoka to be told.

At first, he had decided not to enlist Watari's help either to avoid arousing more suspicions and questions. But with most of the message translated, Tsuzuki saw no harm in showing the remaining fragment to the Shoukanka's resident know-it-all.

Watari was more than willing to assist when Tsuzuki visited his laboratory.

"Of course, I can help you! Sit, sit!" Watari picked up a pile of books from a stool, unsuccessfully tried to find space on his bookshelf for them, then dumped them on the floor.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you--"

"No need to ask such a silly question!" Watari quickly cleared his workbench of equipment, and it all fell to the floor with a loud crash.

"Watari! What are you doing?"

"Never mind. It's just a prototype. I'm just happy to see that you're still talking to me. I honestly didn't mean to upset you the other day. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my work..." He broke off sheepishly and put his hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "But that's no excuse. Forgive me, Tsuzuki."

Tsuzuki smiled, and meant it. "There's nothing to forgive. Don't worry about it anymore." Everyone was going out of their way to be kind to him at the moment. It felt nice, but it was so embarrassing. "Here is the anagram. I think it may be a name or title."

Watari peered at it. "How fascinating. Where does it come from?"

"I dreamt it." Tsuzuki shrugged. "Maybe my subconscious is telling me I should do more reading."

"Well, you should. That's the only way to learn. Isn't it, 003?"

The little owl perched on Watari's shoulder hooted in agreement.

"But if I read too much, I fall asleep!" Tsuzuki scratched his head and laughed. "I'm better off leaving such details to experts like you."

Watari smiled smugly. "I can't argue with that." He folded the paper and placed it in his lab pocket. "I'll try to get it done by this afternoon."

"There's no rush. Tomorrow will be fine. I'm taking the Gushoshin out for afternoon tea as a goodwill gesture." He winked at Watari. "Maybe if I offer them some delicious treats they will consider lowering the duration of their library ban."

"Then you must offer them the finest sweets from the best confectioners. Once Tatsumi tried to bribe them with cheap substitutes, and they threw it back in his face."

"Really? I didn't know they were so picky." So he'd have to take them somewhere expensive. But did he have the money? His pay packet wasn't exactly bulging with cash. He was still repaying the previous library damages through weekly pay deductions.

"Here." Watari pressed some notes in his hand. "Buy me some kasutera and mizuyokan with the change, okay? Be your most charming and pleasant, and I'm sure they won't hold their stony faces for long. Good luck."

* * *

It was a humid summer afternoon in Nagasaki. The sky was overcast, yet sunlight still filtered through the blanket of cloud to cast its grey light on the city. A slight sea breeze from the harbour provided some respite, but it wasn't enough to shift the sweltering heat. Maybe rain--even a thunderstorm--would come later that evening to clear the air. But for now, the only escape from the humidity was to seek the indoor comfort of the nearest air conditioner.

The tea rooms were busy with customers keen to escape from the heat. Flavoured ice teas were being sold with seasonal sweets and jellies. In one such establishment, Tsuzuki and the younger Gushoshin sat at a window table. They each had a glass of iced tea before them, and five dishes of colourful confections on the table.

"This monaka is delicious!" the Gushoshin declared, its mouth full of adzuki bean paste. "Thank you for inviting me out, Tsuzuki-san!"

Tsuzuki rested his chin in a gloved hand and smiled. "You're welcome. Be sure to bring some back for your brother. It's a shame he couldn't come along as well. You both work much too hard."

"There's much to do in the library archives. The database on demon spirits is out of date and requires urgent reconfiguration. We're working around the clock to get it done. We all aren't lazy layabouts like you!"

"Gushoshin! Is that any way to treat the generous host who's footing the bill?"

The bird spirit frowned, undaunted by Tsuzuki's hurt expression. "You aren't doing this to bribe me into terminating your library ban, are you?"

"No, no, no! I'd never dream of it!" Inwardly Tsuzuki cursed the Gushoshin's uncanny intuition. Three hundred years without the library was a long time. He reached over to take a delicately crafted namagashi. "So what's wrong with the demon database? It's worked fine for previous cases, hasn't it?"

"There has been much upheaval in the command structure serving under Grand Duke Ashitarote. Some high-ranking demons have been demoted, others have mysteriously disappeared...and worse of all, no one in the demon world keeps track of them! There's no official record to speak of except for the one in the library. If we can't keep track of them, the database will become obsolete. Chief Konoe is counting on us to get it completed. My brother is working on it as we speak."

Tsuzuki sipped his tea and sighed. "I wish you luck, but it's going to be difficult. You know as well as I do that demons thrive on secrecy. Most demons don't want to be identified, let alone located. Just do your best."

The Gushoshin grabbed a sweet jelly yokan and bit into it. "We will."

Tsuzuki looked out the window, but his mind was elsewhere. What he had said was true: demons guarded their names fiercely. Knowing the name of a demon was an important weapon, for it gave one with the magical skill and knowledge the information needed to summon, bind or destroy it.

But Muraki had flaunted the signature imprinted on his eye, challenging him to identify the name. Only a demon of incredible arrogance or power would consider revealing itself in such a blatant manner.

Which category did Muraki's demon fall into?

"Hey, Tsuzuki-san! Aren't you eating? You haven't even touched your namagashi yet."

Tsuzuki picked up his fork and slowly cut a piece. "I ate earlier." His ravenous craving for sweets had deserted him today. He wasn't hungry...at least not for food.

Muraki hadn't come to him for the past three nights.

"That's never stopped you before." The Gushoshin's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Are you all right, Tsuzuki-san?"

"I'm fine." Tsuzuki placed the piece in his mouth and smiled. He chewed it slowly, allowing the sweetness to linger on his tongue. His mind vaguely registered the sensation as pleasurable, but he felt no excitement or joy in eating. When he swallowed, it lodged in his throat as a thick choking lump.

In his dreams, he'd waited in the barren rose garden in the moonlight, yelling Muraki's name until his throat was raw. Waited...and waited.

He downed the rest of his iced tea in one gulp.

The Gushoshin looked down at his empty plate. "Tsuzuki-san, when you grabbed me in the library you said something about a dream. You thought I was...someone else..."

Tsuzuki tensed, leather-clad fingers tightening over the frosted glass. "Did you tell anyone?"

"No."

"Thank you." He carefully released the glass and picked up the fork again. "It's something I prefer to keep secret. Please don't tell anyone about it."

"Okay." The bird spirit studied him gravely. "But even if I say nothing, others may still find out. Hisoka-san has strong empathic abilities--"

"I've learnt some simple techniques from Tatsumi to shield my emotions." Tsuzuki began methodically cutting his cake into small pieces. "Hisoka doesn't know, and I want to keep it that way. I don't want him to be reminded of the past. He needs to focus on the future ahead of him."

"Yes, I agree. He needs to move on. But maybe it's time you followed your own advice too."

Tsuzuki looked at him in surprise, then flashed a sheepish smile. "Point taken, Gushoshin. I guess I worry too much for my own good."

"It's not like you to worry so much. And remember, Hisoka-san is your partner and friend. If you hide yourself from him for too long, he will be sure to suspect something."

"You may be right." Tsuzuki ate another piece. "But the dreams have disappeared. There isn't much to hide now."

Except for the nameless ache that gnawed within his gut, slowly driving him mad. The hunger no sweet, however exquisite, could satisfy.

Tsuzuki held out a plate of dainty suiko. "Please feel free to eat more."

"Ahhh!" The bird's eyes lit up. "Thank you!"

* * *

Two hours and many sweets later, they left with boxes full of cakes and sweets. Tsuzuki had bought kasutera and mizuyokan for Watari, and the Gushoshin had plenty of leftover sweets for his brother. 

"What if Chief Konoe catches us with all this food?" Gushoshin asked, carrying the boxes in his arms. "Do we have enough kasutera to spare for him?"

"I'll give him a couple of the ones I bought for Watari. He won't mind." Tsuzuki took out his sunglasses and put them on, then carefully adjusted his black tie so that the knot fitted snugly against his buttoned collar. Dark clouds were rolling in from the horizon. Rain was likely in the evening. "Come on. We might as well do a little sightseeing while we're here. Did you bring your camera?"

The Gushoshin nodded. "But we've been here before, Tsuzuki-san. Haven't we seen all the sights already?"

"There's more to Nagasaki than meets the eye." Tsuzuki began walking briskly along the narrow cobblestone street, his black trench coat flaring behind him. "Let's see as much as we can before sunset!"

"Wait!" The Gushoshin floated after him and settled on his shoulder. "I can't move so fast after eating so much." He looked at Tsuzuki's neat attire. "You're dressed very smartly today. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were going out on a hot date."

"Gushoshin! Are you crazy?" A guilty flush crept over Tsuzuki's cheeks. "I'm not dating anyone...unless you mean yourself." He cast a mischievous look at the bird spirit. "So you're falling for my irresistible charm at long last. Will you consider repealing the three-hundred-year ban from the library for the one you adore?"

"Never! Tsuzuki-san is an idiot!" The Gushoshin bounced up and down on Tsuzuki's shoulder in horror. "I never said I was falling for a useless person like you!"

Tsuzuki laughed. "Okay, okay. My mistake. You should have seen the look on your face! I've never seen you look so horr--" He broke off in mid- sentence, eyes wide, and whirled about.

"What is it?"

Tsuzuki didn't reply. For the fraction of a second, he could have sworn that someone was just behind him, breathing at the nape of his neck. Warm breath over his skin, sending shivers down his spine...

But there was no one behind him. The other passers-by were too far away.

"What's wrong, Tsuzuki-san?"

"Nothing." He took the sunglasses off and placed them on his head. With narrowed eyes he scanned the rest of the street. His ever-reliable spiritual sixth sense wailed one name again and again, reverberating in his mind with the high-pitched intensity of an ambulance siren.

The characters written on his body were a message: Nagasaki Full Moon.

The moon was only in its first quarter phase. It wouldn't reach completion for another eight days. But Muraki was already here. He could feel it. His decision to come early had been vindicated.

"Let's go, Gushoshin. We don't have any time to waste."

So they began searching. They walked along the famous Dutch Slope, with its picturesque cobblestone pathways and ivy-covered walls. They visited Oura Tenshu-do, the beautiful white Catholic church with its single spire reaching for the heavens. Then they went to Chinatown, the Hamanomachi shopping arcades, Mount Inasa with its panoramic views, and the hushed serenity of the Peace Park and Urakami cathedral.

Nothing. No Muraki. Tsuzuki's sixth sense detected nothing. The wailing was muted to a fleeting whisper.

They finally went to Glover Park with its historical Western residential buildings and harbour views. The clouds that had been on the horizon had reached the harbour, casting the sky in a murky shade of yellow-grey.

The Gushoshin pulled his beret over his head. "It's getting dark. Why don't we go back? We can always do the sightseeing another day."

Tsuzuki looked over the city, his arms folded, a frown wrinkling his brow. The lights were visible as twinkling lights, little gems nestled against the mountains and stretching down to the sea. There was a slight breeze stirring his hair and trench coat, but it did little to dispel the stifling humidity.

Nothing. He'd searched and come up empty. But Muraki was definitely here somewhere. His senses never lied.

"I can't go back. Not yet."

"Of course you can. How else are we going to get these sweets back to the Shoukanka?"

Tsuzuki held up one gloved finger. "Hush."

The clouds to the north lit up with a flash of light. Thunder rumbled overhead, its muted roar sounding like a beast awakening from slumber. It would reach the city later tonight.

His sixth sense remained silent. Too silent. It was time to resort to supernatural means.

He withdrew a fuda from his breast pocket. It transformed into a swallow perched on his fingers.

"Help me find Muraki. Show me where he is."

The swallow trilled, then flew away toward the city.

"Muraki? Muraki!" The Gushoshin's eyes popped out of its head. "The insane perverted homicidal Doctor Muraki?"

Tsuzuki lowered the sunglasses to his face. "Do you know of any other?"

"Why are you looking for a crazy man like him? There's no active case involving him at the moment, is there?"

"Not yet."

In his mind, he could see through the eyes of the swallow. It circled over the entire city, moving from harbour to business district in a huge arc, then flew further to the entertainment and shopping arcades. Faster it flew, slicing through the air with the speed of a falling sword...

It swooped over Shianbashi Street, hovered in mid-air, then trilled again.

"That's it! Let's go, Gushoshin!"

"You haven't answered my question! Why are we chasing Mu--"

They were standing amid the many gourmet restaurants in Shianbashi before he could finish his sentence.

"Tsuzuki-san! Stop being so impulsive. Tell me what you're doing."

"Meddling." Tsuzuki looked around, his heart thudding in his chest. "Didn't you once say it was my speciality?"

"I take it back. Your speciality is stupidity. You must be nuts to think you can chase Muraki by yourself!"

"I have you, don't I? We're working as a pair." His sixth sense was wailing once again, the volume steadily rising. Muraki had to be near.

"You told me we were going out for afternoon tea. You tricked me!"

Out of the corner of one eye, Tsuzuki caught sight of a flash of white. He turned to see a tall man dressed in a white suit walking on the other side of the narrow street.

"Don't, Tsuzuki-san! I'm going to tell Chief Konoe!"

Tsuzuki broke into a run, his coat flaring behind him. Taken by surprise, the GuShoShin tumbled off Tsuzuki's shoulder.

"Hey! Wait up, Tsuzuki-san! I'm still carrying the sweets!"

It had to be Muraki. The height, the build, the silver hair. The narrow waist he had repeatedly stabbed with a scalpel. The broad shoulders he had clawed in the extremity of climax.

"Muraki!"

It was the shorter man beside him who turned first. He had short dark hair streaked with grey, and he seemed several years older than Muraki. He tapped the doctor's shoulder. "Sensei, do you know this man?"

"We know each other well," Tsuzuki replied for him.

At last the man dressed in white turned to face him. Silver hair obscured his right eye. The glasses reflected the neon lights from the restaurant signs, momentarily obscuring his left eye from view. One eyebrow was raised in mild curiosity.

For a man who had suffered multiple stab wounds and major blood loss in Kyoto, Muraki looked incredibly well.

"Do we? I don't believe so." No other voice mixed clinical coolness with seductive menace to such ambiguous effect. "Have we met before?"

"Yes, dammit! Don't play games with me." Tsuzuki pulled his sunglasses off, violet eyes flashing with anger. They were enemies. They had a shared past carved in flesh and blood. How dare Muraki forget?

Muraki's remote gaze raked him from head to foot as if examining a piece of livestock up for auction. When he was done, he lifted one hand to push his glasses up his nose. A sardonic smile curved his lips. "Forgive me. I'm sure I would remember someone as striking as you."

"Maybe this is a former patient of yours," the other man suggested. "You've operated on so many over the years--"

"I'm not a former patient," Tsuzuki snapped dismissively. "Fortunately for me." Tsuzuki could see Muraki grinning now, openly amused. How he longed to destroy the doctor's composure. "This man is not what he seems," he said to Muraki's companion. "On the outside he appears to be a doctor who cares for the welfare of his patients but on the inside he's a ruthless, calculating, cold-blooded--"

"Lover?" Muraki finished helpfully. He pulled Tsuzuki tight against him, imprisoning him with brute force.

Tsuzuki could hardly speak. The merciless grip squeezed the air from his lungs. He was pressed against unyielding muscle and bone from shoulder to hip. A sharp ache of desire passed through him. There was no denying the man's imposing physique or the aura of sexual magnetism he possessed. The dreams, vivid as they were, could never prepare him for dealing with Muraki in the flesh.

Muraki lowered his head so that his lips were close to Tsuzuki's ear. "You know me so well, Tsuzuki-san. But how can you think I am cold-blooded? Allow me to prove you wrong."

Tsuzuki tried to squirm away, but there was no escape from Muraki's hold. He trembled as Muraki nibbled at the sensitive lobe of his ear. The heat of his breath tickled his neck, sending his pulse into overdrive and shivers of delight along his spine. The surrounding people, the restaurants, even the outside world receded into the background. After being deprived of the doctor's taunting presence for three nights, his body now strained to absorb each action Muraki inflicted on him. The cool graze of his teeth and the feather-light caress of his warm lips, the hand sliding from his waist to linger at his hip...Tsuzuki's starving senses welcomed them all.

"You are always so impatient, Tsuzuki-san. I already told you I had business to attend to this evening. Couldn't you wait for me to come to you after dinner?"

It took several seconds for the question to penetrate his consciousness and kick-start his defences. "NOOO! We're not like that, you pervert!" He wrenched himself away, cheeks flaming in embarrassment.

Muraki obliged by releasing his grip. "Forgive me, Norata-san. I usually take great care to keep my personal affairs private. I did not mean to embarrass you with such a vulgar public display, but Tsuzuki-san has such lusty appetites. Satisfying him is a full-time job in itself."

Tsuzuki found refuge in anger. "Shut up! Stop saying such lies, dammit!"

The other man looked nervously from one to the other. "So...so you do know each other after all?"

"Yes." Muraki cast a wicked look at Tsuzuki, who was still fuming with rage. "Intimately."

"Bastard!" Tsuzuki shook a fist at him. "You know it's not like that! Stop lying to everyone!"

"Tsuzuki-san! Tsuzuki-saaan!" The Gushoshin plopped himself on Tsuzuki's shoulder, still carrying the boxes of sweets. "Didn't you hear me calling for help? I was almost trampled back there." He noticed Tsuzuki's fierce gaze and followed it to its target. "Arghh!" He ducked behind Tsuzuki's shoulder in terror. "Let's go back now. I've had enough sightseeing for one day."

Muraki was smiling at them both, his eyes crinkled up at the corners. "I still owe you those roses, ne? If I'd known you were coming tonight, I would have ordered them in advance."

"He looks even more scary when he's happy," the Gushoshin muttered.

The cheerful façade hardened Tsuzuki's resolve. There was no way he was going back. He hadn't come all this way just to let Muraki escape again. He had to decipher the contract written on Muraki's eye.

It was the only reason for him to be here. Shinigami business, nothing else.

"Sensei, would your...guest...like to join us for dinner?"

"That is extremely generous of you, Norata-san," Muraki said. "Tsuzuki-san, are you free to join us for dinner this evening? Norata-san owns a restaurant in this area. We were on our way there when we ran into you."

Deliberately ignoring Muraki, Tsuzuki bowed to the other man. "Thank you for the invitation, sir. Forgive me for being so rude earlier."

"No, not at all. Any friend of Muraki-sensei is a friend of mine. Come, we should get moving before it starts to rain."

The three of them began walking together. Tsuzuki found himself between Norata and Muraki.

"I don't understand why you're eating with him," the bird spirit muttered. "What are you up to now?"

"Hush, Gushoshin. I'll explain later."

"You are fortunate to have Muraki-sensei as a friend," Norata said. "Five years ago, he saved my daughter's life. I have been in his debt ever since."

"This man saved your daughter?"

"She had a leaky heart valve. I replaced it," Muraki explained lightly.

"Sensei, you are too modest. He operated on her at a time when my business was struggling. There was no way I could afford the medical bills, so he waived them all. A man of such kindness and generosity is rare in this materialistic world."

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze and avoided a reply. He did not doubt the man's story. No doubt he performed life-saving actions for his patients in his line of work. But that didn't negate the many crimes he had committed, or the suffering and anguish he had inflicted on others. Good deeds, no matter how noble or self-sacrificing, could never wash away the stain of sin.

Tsuzuki knew this from personal experience.

"I heard that tonight there will be violent thunderstorms and strong winds," Muraki said. "It's best that we do not stay out too late. I wouldn't want Tsuzuki-san to catch a chill."

"Of course, sensei. I will ensure that we are given prompt service."

Tsuzuki fought down his rising temper. He knew the doctor was trying to unsettle him. "You can stop the pretence, Muraki." His voice was soft and low enough to avoid being overheard, yet it held a subtle threat of its own. "If I were you, I'd be concentrating on my own welfare tonight."

Muraki's lips quirked. "That's always my primary concern." He cast a sidelong look at Tsuzuki that lingered a fraction too long to be considered polite. "Most of the time, anyway."

Tsuzuki clenched his jaw and remained silent. There was no point in making another scene in the middle of the street. After the dinner, he would find an opportunity to observe and photograph the eye in close-up. All he had to do was tolerate the doctor's outrageous behaviour for the next few hours. How hard could it be? He'd endured similar situations before.

As long as they were in public company, Muraki would act within the bounds of decorum...more or less.


	5. Ramen and lightning for dinner

17th May: re-uploaded this section. Seems that the end bit was missing. Sorry!

* * *

Norata's restaurant specialised in ramen noodles. His wife welcomed them in, and they were served by his daughter, a bubbly young woman in her late teens. She all but swooned over the doctor, fussed over Tsuzuki like he was a long lost relative, and fell head over heels for the Gushoshin sitting on Tsuzuki's shoulder. 

"Awww, it's so adorable!!" She patted the hat on its head. "How much is it? I've heard about such robotic animals, but I never knew they were so life- like!"

"I'm not robotic!"

"It talks!! Oh my, I want to have one too. It's just like a pet without the mess. How much is it?"

Tsuzuki smiled sheepishly. "Ah, well..."

"I'm not a pet! No one owns me! Especially not this idiot--"

Tsuzuki grabbed the Gushoshin's beak to shut it up. "It's a prototype," he explained. "Look for it on the shelves next Christmas. By then we'll have modified the talk function so that it grumbles less."

"Mmmmph! Mmmph!!" the Gushoshin said, shaking its head from side to side as it tried to free its beak.

Everyone laughed. Even Muraki chuckled.

Tsuzuki smiled until his face ached. Playing the clown came as easily to him as falling off a log. It was the best way he knew to overcome awkward social situations such as his current predicament. As Muraki enquired about the daughter's health, Tsuzuki was well aware that he was the outsider in their midst: a strange man with a talking bird who was only eating with them because they were under the misapprehension that he was the 'intimate friend' of their venerated doctor.

Such mistakes occurred with depressing regularity when he and Muraki were in the same vicinity. It was so incredibly humiliating.

"Tsuzuki-san, would you like some sake?" Muraki asked, on the verge of filling his cup.

He wanted to say yes, but he needed his wits about him tonight. "No, thank you."

Muraki paused, his long graceful fingers clasped around the china bottle. "Not even a little?"

Tsuzuki eyed him warily. Did Muraki know about his weakness for sake?

"You will offend the host if you don't accept." Muraki filled his glass anyway. "Or are you afraid of what you'll let me do once your inhibitions have been lowered by alcohol?"

Tsuzuki clenched his teeth, his temper threatening to get the better of him. "Muraki..."

"I'll take it," the Gushoshin piped up. "If I'm going to spend time the entire evening near this madman, I need all the help I can get."

Tsuzuki gave the small cup to him, but all his attention was focused on the man seated by his side. This was their first face-to-face meeting since Kyoto, and the antagonism and frustration the doctor evoked was as intense as ever. Any residual guilt Tsuzuki carried within was burnt to a cinder by the predatory gleam in Muraki's good eye. His near-death experience in Kyoto had not humbled him in the slightest.

Physically he was as strong as ever. Tsuzuki watched as he poured sake for Norata. Even in such a mundane act, there was something showy in the way he moved, as if he were performing to an unseen audience. Judging by the strength of his embrace in the middle of the street, his injuries had left him with no obvious physical impairment.

Demonic intervention was the only explanation.

"So much time has passed since we last dined together," Muraki said as he sipped his sake. "And yet...I feel as if we have never been apart."

"You haven't changed at all. You're still conceited and arrogant to the core."

Muraki inclined his head. "Thank you. As for you..." He studied Tsuzuki for a long moment, then took another sip from his cup. "I see that your dress sense has improved, your taste in companions has deteriorated, and your eyes are as bewitching as ever."

Tsuzuki blinked, confused as to how to respond to the mix of insult and flattery. Thankfully the menus arrived, saving him the effort of thinking up a reply. Whether it was with bouquets of roses, effusive flattery that bore no resemblance to fact, or lewd suggestions that made Tsuzuki's blood boil, Muraki knew exactly how to unsettle him.

To achieve his objectives tonight, Tsuzuki knew he had to keep calm and focused. The doctor would take any opportunity to undermine and embarrass him, distract him into making a fool of himself. Tsuzuki vowed not to give him that satisfaction.

For the rest of the meal, he chose not to talk or even look at Muraki. He listened politely as Muraki engaged in conversation with Norata and his wife, nodding and making sounds of agreement when they looked in his direction. Each time Muraki refilled his cup, he let the Gushoshin drain it again. Drinking freely was a luxury he only indulged in when with his friends at the Shoukanka. Tonight it was out of the question.

He even managed to remain composed--more or less--when he noticed that Muraki's bowl contained more ramen noodles than his. That took considerable willpower on his part; at first he couldn't stop glaring at Muraki's bowl to compare the difference. It was only when Muraki offered to share his dish that he realised he was acting like a child. Embarrassed, he shook his head and went back to eating his own meal.

A few minutes later, Norata's daughter came to their table. "Is everything satisfactory?" she asked.

"Is it possible for Tsuzuki-san to have an extra serving of ramen?" Muraki asked. "He was so hungry for more that I half expected him to steal mine."

"I'm so sorry we didn't bring enough. Certainly we will bring your friend more."

"No, no!" Tsuzuki held up his hand. "There's no need--"

"Of course there is a need," Norata said. "You are our guest. We don't want you to leave here with anything less than a full stomach."

"It's...it's very kind of you."

It was kind of Muraki too: a small gesture of kindness from the enemy. Tsuzuki knew he should thank Muraki as well...but his manners only went so far. Being grateful to Muraki for anything was an annoyance he could do without.

Tsuzuki leaned close to Muraki so the others couldn't overhear him. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's important that you eat well, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki replied softly. "You need to keep your energy up for the things I have planned later."

Tsuzuki flushed bright red. "What do you mean by that?? What makes you think I'll submit to any of your twisted plans?"

"Well..." Muraki considered the question as he poured more sake, "you did agree to have dinner here. And you've gone to all this trouble to chase me down, ne?" He brushed a lock of silver hair behind one ear. "I presume you're here because you couldn't bear being apart from me a moment longer."

"That's not it, dammit! Where do you get such crazy ideas from?" Tsuzuki clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to clamp them around Muraki's throat. He lowered his tone to a warning growl. "You know damn well what I'm here for. You have something I want, and I intend to get it from you if it's the last thing I do."

"Really?" A gleam of triumph shone in his visible grey eye. "Now you know exactly how I feel about you."

Tsuzuki turned away, grappling with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. This was so typical of Muraki. The doctor never took his warnings seriously. His fists trembled in his lap. The desire to resort to violence seemed more and more tempting...

"Tsuzuki-san?" The Gushoshin stopped in mid-sip of in the middle of pouring itself another cup of sake. "Are you all right?"

Tsuzuki excused himself and went to the bathroom, the Gushoshin floating behind him. Once they were inside, he finally exploded:

"Damn him! He takes everything I say and turns it into a crude come-on line!" He began pacing in circles around the small room, his lean black form tense and restless like a prowling panther. "He's a lecherous, sleazy bastard!"

"Keep your voice down, Tsuzuki-san." The Gushoshin watched with growing unease as he floated in the centre of the room. "We can't afford to damage property. Tatsumi-san's blood pressure will go off the scale if we damage property."

"I don't care how brilliant a doctor he is," Tsuzuki muttered to himself. "How can those people treat him with such deference? He isn't even fit to wipe their shoes!"

"You're the one who agreed to have dinner with him. I told you we should have gone back to Meifu hours ago. You know how hot headed you can be."

Tsuzuki leaned back against a tiled wall. He let the coldness of the tiles permeate through his coat and shirt. Slowly he tilted his head back against the wall. Too hot headed. He had to cool down. He placed his gloved palms flat against the wall. He closed his eyes and concentrated on absorbing every bit of coldness from the tiles.

He needed to be detached and unruffled, much like Muraki himself. His impulsive nature was a weakness. He needed to control his feelings. If he lost control again, he would be giving Muraki the advantage.

"I'm okay now." He opened his eyes. "Let's go back, Gushoshin."

"You're asking for trouble. Muraki's going to provoke you again." The bird spirit hovered in front of him, arms folded. "Tell me what's going on. What are you up to?"

Tsuzuki pushed himself away from the wall. "I want you to photograph Muraki. I need to get a close look at his false eye, the one he keeps hidden. Can you do that for me?"

The Gushoshin goggled at the idea. "Are you crazy? I'm a librarian, not a professional photographer. I'm not going anywhere near him if I can help it!" It suddenly let out a loud croaking burp.

"No more alcohol for you. You've had enough sake for one night."

"Hmmph. I haven't had that much to drink. Anyway, if you wanted a teetotaller, you should have asked Hisoka to come with you instead."

Tsuzuki rubbed his forehead. "It's unfair to him. Hisoka always acts weird when Muraki is around. As if...as if he's still haunted by the curse."

"Hah! Do you think your behaviour around him is any better?"

The door swung open. "Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki was waiting by the doorway. "Your second serving of ramen is waiting at the table for you."

"Oh." He'd forgotten all about it. "I'll be out in a moment."

Muraki came inside and closed the door behind him. "You've spent a long time in here. Are you feeling unwell?"

The room was small enough, but Muraki's presence made the room stifling and claustrophobic. His broad shoulders almost spanned the narrow doorway. Getting past him without using force--physical or magical--was going to be near impossible.

"I'm fine. Your services are not required here, sensei." Tsuzuki didn't conceal his sarcasm. "Now if you will excuse me--"

"Liar," Muraki drawled. "Your beautiful eyes give away your true feelings."

Tsuzuki put his hand to the fuda in his breast pocket. "Get out of my way, Muraki."

"Tsuzuki-san!" The Gushoshin waved his arms furiously. "No fuda! No fuda!"

"You are so delightfully perverse. You reject me with your words, but your eyes beckon me closer. Which should I believe? Isn't it said that eyes are the window to the soul?" Muraki idly brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "If I had my way, I would have taken you right there on the restaurant table while we were waiting for our dishes to arrive. An entrée, as the French call it. Would you have liked that?"

"You..." Tsuzuki began trembling from head to foot. The anger couldn't be denied any longer. "How dare you..."

"Stop! Stop!" the Gushoshin squawked as it came between them. "This isn't the library! No fighting here!"

Tsuzuki tensed. The bird spirit was right. He didn't have to hurl his fuda and leave the restaurant a pile of rubble. Why couldn't he just throttle Muraki right now? He imagined his fingers tightening around Muraki's long white throat, clamping off the blood flow, crushing the windpipe...

The image filled him with a sharp thrill of pleasure, swiftly followed by a wave of revulsion. To find enjoyment in killing would make him no better than the psychopathic doctor. He put away the fuda inside the breast pocket of his coat.

"What is this?" Muraki asked, eyeing the Gushoshin with unconcealed distaste. "The boy was troublesome enough, but even he cannot match this beast for annoying conduct. Surely you're old enough to go out on a date without a chaperone."

The Gushoshin flitted to Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Who are you calling 'annoying'? I'm not the one who molests people in public!"

"If you find me annoying, you're more than welcome to leave," Muraki replied blandly. "Neither of us will miss your irritating interjections."

"No way! I'm not leaving him alone with a pervert like you!"

"Enough." Tsuzuki's low voice caught the attention of both doctor and bird. "Come, Gushoshin." He looked Muraki straight in the eye, arms folded across his chest. "After we're finished here, I am going to examine that contract."

"You can examine it in the comfort of my apartment. It has excellent harbour views, a spa bath, and an extremely comfortable double bed."

"The location doesn't matter. We can go to a filthy side alley for all I care. Excuse me." Tsuzuki pushed past him to reach the door, the Gushoshin perched regally on his shoulder.

Muraki raised both brows in mild surprise, but made no attempt to stop or pursue him. "I didn't know you had a taste for rough--"

Tsuzuki slammed the door, blocking out the rest of Muraki's reply. If only Muraki's neck had rested between the door and the doorjamb, it would have been perfect.

* * *

Later that evening, the Norata family speculated about the sombre man dressed in black. For all his youthful beauty and ready smiles, there was a funereal gloom about him that puzzled them. Occasionally he looked into space, his violet-black eyes--which stirred much interest--seeing something beyond the realm of normal vision. Although he ate with them, even wolfing down a second helping of ramen, his movements seemed driven by necessity than any enthusiasm.

Only when Muraki spoke to him did he come alive. His eyes sparkled with fire, his voice throbbed with anger and passion. It was as if Muraki's presence provided the catalyst necessary to pull him out of his introspection.

As for the doctor, they had never seen him so besotted with another person, male or female. He was so attentive, so concerned. Why, he even went to the trouble of checking on him in the bathroom! Then there was the hasty manner in which he made early excuses for them both, as if he couldn't wait to be alone with his companion.

They came to the conclusion that it must be love.

* * *

Lighting lit up the thick storm clouds as the two men--and one bird spirit-- left Norata's establishment. A cool wind dissipated the humidity lingering from the afternoon. Ominous thunder rumbled in the distance. People scurried past, eager to find shelter from the impending downpour.

"If I'd known you were coming to visit, I would have arranged for roses to be delivered at the restaurant. I still haven't forgotten my promise of a hundred roses."

"I'm not interested in your flowers, Muraki."

"Oh." Muraki seemed almost crestfallen. "I thought you loved roses as much as I did. In any case, my apartment isn't far from here." He lowered his head so that his lips were mere inches from Tsuzuki's ear. "It's only ten minutes away by cab."

"Hah! We're not going to your apartment!" The Gushoshin glared at him from Tsuzuki's other shoulder.

"That's ten minutes too long," Tsuzuki replied as he shifted away. "I don't have all night." He flexed his gloved fingers around the boxes of sweets he held, a restless gesture betraying his impatience. He didn't want to stay any longer than was necessary. Muraki tried his patience in ways few other beings, human or otherwise, had ever done before. No one else could make him veer from frustration to bewilderment to murderous rage so quickly.

The protective guards and defences he placed around his emotions were useless. Muraki tore through them like a bullet through tissue paper.

A brilliant display of lightning flashed overhead, a single bolt zigzagging to earth, followed by a crack of thunder that echoed around them. The streetlights and neon signs wavered like flickering candles, momentarily awed by the superiority of nature, before returning to their artificial brightness.

Muraki stopped to watch beneath a shop awning, his features concealed by shadows. "An impressive display, ne?"

Tsuzuki didn't like the look of it. The rain would start any minute now. Unless Muraki allowed him to photograph the eye where they stood on the pavement, they would have to go indoors.

"So many are terrified by thunderstorms." Muraki pulled out a cigarette from the breast pocket of his suit and lit it with his lighter. The flame lit up his features for an instant, giving his anaemic complexion a shimmering gold cast. "They think of the property damage and inconvenience of interrupted electricity, not to mention the poor victims of a lightning strike. They cower in terror when the thunder rolls." He put the cigarette to his lips and took a long drag from it. Smoke curled from his nostrils as he slowly exhaled. "Are you afraid of storms, Tsuzuki-san?"

"No." Tsuzuki had the uneasy feeling that, much like Muraki's flirting, there was a double-edged meaning to this conversation. "We should get moving."

"Patience is a virtue." Muraki's voice was low and indulgent. "Let's watch a little longer."

"What's the point? Haven't you seen a thunderstorm before?"

"Yes, but I never tire of seeing lightning. I find it awe-inspiring. Such unbridled energy crackling through the atmosphere, blindly seeking the earth, heedless of the destruction it leaves in its wake..." Muraki's rich velvet voice held a note of yearning passion that caught Tsuzuki's attention. "I love its savage beauty. For as long as I can remember, I have always been attracted to such fierce displays of nature's power. To harness such energy and bend it to my will...nothing would give me greater satisfaction." His gaze slanted across to Tsuzuki for a moment. The implied comparison was impossible to ignore.

"You're a fool," Tsuzuki replied. "You claim to want eternal life, yet you seek out dangerous forces that will lead to your destruction. Demons make contracts for their own personal gain. They would never help a human unless they were offered something of value in exchange. Whether you realise it or not, whatever power it has bequeathed to you comes at a terrible price."

"Such touching concern for my welfare." Lightning lit his profile, illuminating the thinly veiled smile hovering on his lips. "Then tell me, Tsuzuki-san, what are you going to do? Take me to Meifu in protective custody? Perform an exorcism to save my soul?" The false eye lit up in taunting defiance.

The contract! At last...

Tsuzuki lunged forward with such speed that the Gushoshin tumbled off his shoulder. The boxes of cakes and sweets were tossed to the ground, forgotten in his anger. He grabbed Muraki by the throat, pinning him against the wall. With his free gloved hand he pulled out a pointed chopstick and plunged it toward Muraki's right eye.

Muraki grabbed Tsuzuki's wrist before the chopstick struck home. "Did you pilfer this from the restaurant? How incredibly rude of you."

"Damn you! You're the one who brought me here! You're the one who invaded my dreams!" He pulled Muraki closer so that they were facing each other nose-to-nose. "I made a promise the last time I dreamt of you. I've come to keep it tonight."

"Tsuzuki-san! What are you talking about??" The Gushoshin hovered behind him, appalled. "What are you doing??"

"I know." Muraki tilted his head, lips parted in blatant invitation. "I have a promise of my own to keep as well." One of his hands snaked around Tsuzuki's waist, pulling them together. He lowered his head and kissed Tsuzuki hard.

Tsuzuki growled as he tightened his hold over Muraki's throat. Any other person would have been choking for air, but Muraki didn't even wince. His teeth grazed Tsuzuki's lips, a not-quite painful sensation that he soothed with the rough lap of his tongue. The burnt bitterness of tobacco lingered with the distinctive rice-like sweetness of sake on his breath. The metal of his steel-rimmed glasses pressed into Tsuzuki's cheek.

"Tsuzuki-saaaan!" The Gushoshin covered its eyes. "This is too awful to watch."

Tsuzuki's lips tingled and ached. His mouth remained stubbornly shut, but his insides were melting with desire. He leaned against Muraki without conscious volition, instinctively pressing himself full-length against powerful lean muscles. The gloved hand that gripped Muraki's throat began to caress the nape of his neck. The other hand let go of the chopstick, and it clattered as it fell on the pavement.

Droplets of rain began to fall outside. The pitter-patter of droplets rapidly turned into a downpour.

"Mmm..." Muraki lifted his head. The lenses of his glasses were obscured by steam, yet the false eye still shone brightly. "Come back to my apartment. Stay with me until morning." He gently nibbled at Tsuzuki's ear, a stark contrast to the merciless grip over his wrist. "Meifu can do without you for one night. I can't do without you for another minute."

Tsuzuki trembled, his resistance crumbling. "Gushoshin, get the camera. Start shooting."

"Camera?" Muraki repeated. "What--"

A series of flashes went off, blinding them both.

Muraki blinked in confusion. "Am I supposed to smile?"

"Not me, Gushoshin! Shoot him! Zoom in on his false eye."

"Which eye is that? They both look false! And evil!" The bird spirit hovered about, taking more photos from various angles.

"The right one! His right, not yours!" Tsuzuki tried to move out of the way, but Muraki's grip on his wrist pulled him to his side. His free hand slid around Tsuzuki to rest possessively on his hip through the fabric of his coat.

"My dear Tsuzuki-san." Muraki nuzzled his ear again. "How romantic of you, hiring a photographer to faithfully record every intimate detail of our date this evening. I could not have thought up something so ingenious myself. But surely you must also be in the photo as well."

"Don't jump to conclusions." Tsuzuki twisted against Muraki's hold. "I'm not doing this for you."

"That's right!" the Gushoshin squawked, still snapping away. "Who in their right mind would want to date an evil psychopath like you??"

"Your pet is extremely meddlesome, Tsuzuki-san. I don't know how you put up with him."

"I'm not a pet! I'm a librarian!"

"Well, whatever you are, your only usefulness was in escorting Tsuzuki-san to me. Now that you've completed your task, you're no longer needed tonight." He held his outstretched palm in front of the Gushoshin. Light enfolded it, and its expression became blank. The camera fell from its hands.

Tsuzuki froze. This ability to render others unconscious...that was _his_ power.

"What are you doing??" He shoved Muraki's hand away, deflecting the light. "Leave him alone!"

It was too late. The Gushoshin sank like a slowly deflating balloon. Tsuzuki scooped him up before he hit the ground.

"I was only putting him to sleep. It's probably past his bedtime."

"Gushoshin?" Tsuzuki picked up the bird, cradling it in his arms. "Gushoshin! Wake up!" He whirled around to face Muraki. "If you've done anything to hurt him--"

Muraki took off his glasses and began cleaning the lenses. The false eye was dim once again. "I assure you he is merely resting."

A soft snore came from the Gushoshin. Tsuzuki examined it for injuries, but found none. The bird spirit smelled of sake, and seemed to be asleep. Tsuzuki's shoulders slumped. He was responsible for this. He should have been protecting the Gushoshin, but he'd been so focused on fighting his attraction for Muraki.

"How do you know how to do this?" he asked tightly. "Who taught you?"

"Why don't we continue this conversation in more congenial surroundings? You can ask me all the questions you like when we reach my apartment. You can study my eye...and any other part of me that takes your interest."

"That won't be necessary." Tsuzuki held up the camera, still hanging around the Gushoshin's neck. "I already have photographs."

"Photos taken from a distance, and probably of dubious quality. Besides, what photograph can compare to the real thing?" Muraki lifted his silver bangs, revealing the false eye with its abnormally wide diameter. "I always thought you were a man of your word, Tsuzuki-san. You're not one to break your promises so easily, ne?"

Tsuzuki almost laughed. He'd promised the Gushoshin a pleasant afternoon tea in Nagasaki: it was now unconscious, struck down by an excess of sake and Muraki's appropriated demon magic. He'd promised to buy Watari sweets: the boxes were now strewn at his feet on the pavement. And those were only the promises he'd broken today. What about the time he'd vowed to keep Hijiri and Kazusa safe from Saagatanasu? Hisoka had warned him about the danger of making promises he couldn't keep...and he'd been proven right.

And there were many other broken promises: to colleagues and friends, the mortals he was responsible for...too numerous to count.

Muraki put on his glasses. "So my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. You're actually smiling in my presence." He tilted his head, studying Tsuzuki thoughtfully. "Have I said something amusing?"

"If only you knew." Tsuzuki caught sight of the chopstick next to Muraki's half-smoked cigarette. Gouging out Muraki's false eye...it seemed ridiculous in retrospect. Muraki would never relinquish something he prized unless it suited his purpose. "Your false eye is perfectly safe. I couldn't keep a promise if my life depended on it."

"Oh?" Only a single syllable, but Muraki managed to invest it with burning curiosity. "I was under the impression that you were a man of integrity."

"Your impression was wrong. I break promises all the time." Tsuzuki bent down to pick up the boxes. Maybe some of the sweets could be salvaged later. "I have a disastrous track record to maintain."

Muraki bent down to assist him. "Maybe so. But in my line of work, I have learned to assess a person's character within minutes of meeting them. I believe that if you did break a promise, it was never with deliberate intent." He picked up a couple of sweet boxes and tucked them under his arm. "It's because you haven't been taught how to employ the full scope of your power."

Tsuzuki stared at him, stunned. Where the hell did Muraki get such ideas?

A cab pulled up in front of them.

"Excellent timing," Muraki said. "Do you need any help in carrying your things, Tsuzuki-san?"

"How do you know so much about us Shinigami?" _And me?_ He wanted to grab Muraki's arm, but his arms were too occupied with sweet boxes and snoring Gushoshin.

"All in good time." Muraki opened the door with his free hand, allowing the rain to drench his arm. "Let us talk in the privacy of my apartment."

Tsuzuki didn't want to go. His earlier capitulation destroyed the delusion he could resist Muraki's seductive technique. And if Muraki were even a fraction as skilled as he was in the dreams, Tsuzuki would be warm putty in his hands, willingly stretching and bending to accommodate the doctor's every desire. But he didn't have much of a choice. Muraki was scattering bait that was less bloodstained but no less suspicious: a mysterious contract and information no living person was supposed to know. How could Tsuzuki ignore it?

"It would be such a shame if you left early," Muraki said, his voice husky. "There's so much I want to show you...so much we could share together."

Tsuzuki clamped down on the frisson of excitement as he walked past him and entered the cab. "I want information. That's all."

Muraki bowed his head, not quite hiding his wolfish smile. "Of course. I'll do my best to accommodate you."


	6. Fuda games in Muraki's apartment

Explicit sex, mild violence.

26/6/04 - Literary Eagle has drawn a lovely picture of Muraki and his kitten in pencil. Thank you!

* * *

The taxi stopped at a sleek modern apartment building in the Mount Inasa precinct. Muraki took the boxes of sweets, leaving Tsuzuki with the Gushoshin. A swipe card and a keypad code gave them entry through a foyer of marble and granite that led to a mirrored elevator. 

Tsuzuki refused to be awed by the surroundings, but he was a little envious. The Shoukanka seldom allowed Shinigami to stay in such luxurious accommodation because of Tatsumi's tight fiscal management.

Muraki pressed the button for the top floor. "I own a penthouse suite. I lease it out most of the year, and make use it when I have holidays."

"So you don't have a practice here?"

"That's correct. My main practice is in Tokyo."

"Then how did you end up treating Norata-san's daughter?"

"Her parents wanted the best possible medical care for her. They wanted an experienced surgeon who could slice open a living heart without blinking an eyelid." He lifted one shoulder in an insouciant shrug. "They travelled to Tokyo to see me."

"And you helped them out of the goodness in your heart?" Tsuzuki asked mockingly.

"I had fond memories of their delicious ramen. It must be the secret stock used to flavour the soup. It would have been an incredible shame if Norata- san closed his restaurant. His ramen is extremely tasty, ne? I can understand why you wanted a second serving."

Tsuzuki gaped at him in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you waived your fees simply because you liked his ramen?"

"I am extremely particular in my tastes. When I find someone who has the skill and talent to meet my standards, I do what I can to reciprocate the favour and encourage them in their endeavours. It is the least I can do in return for the enjoyment they have given me." He studied Tsuzuki, his visible eye glittering with lust. "I can be extremely generous to those who satisfy my desires."

Tsuzuki flushed, but he refused to be deterred. "Your actions are motivated by self-interest, not generosity. You can try to fool others, but you can't fool me. I already know what you are capable of."

"And yet you keep coming back for more. I wonder what your actions say about you, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki carefully placed the sweet boxes on the floor of the elevator and shrugged off his suit jacket, powerful shoulder muscles rippling beneath his shirt. "But let's not dwell on the past. We should be concentrating on our future, ne?"

"Look at our history, and you'll see our future. We are adversaries. We always will be adversaries."

"You're such a pessimist." Muraki carefully placed the jacket on top of the boxes. "It's high time you wore a different colour besides black. Something brighter, more cheerful...such as white. Or how about red?"

"Only someone like you would find the colour of blood cheerful."

"I was thinking of red as the colour of passion." Muraki unbuttoned his shirt, revealing milk-white skin melded over lean muscles.

Tsuzuki stared. "What...what are you doing?"

"My clothes are a little wet, and I don't want catch a cold from the air- conditioning." Muraki flashed him a sidelong look as he pulled the tail of his open shirt out of his trousers. "I didn't have the foresight to bring my trench coat, unlike you." He ruffled his hair, slightly damp from the rain. "You don't mind, do you?"

Tsuzuki focused his gaze on the mirrored doors of the elevator. Keep calm. He's only trying to unnerve you again. "It's your apartment. What you choose to do is of no concern to me."

Muraki raised a speculative eyebrow. "Is that so? How magnanimous of you." He approached Tsuzuki from behind, his tall slightly rumpled reflection a striking counterpoint to Tsuzuki's severely buttoned-up elegance. His gaze locked on Tsuzuki's in the mirror as he removed his glasses and placed them in his trouser pocket. "So you won't mind then, Tsuzuki-san, if I choose to do... this?"

He rested his hands on Tsuzuki's shoulders, the pallor of his long fingers a stark contrast to the black fabric of the trench coat. Slowly he slid his hands along the breadth of Tsuzuki's shoulders, moulding his palms to the contours of muscle and bone beneath the layers of fabric.

Tsuzuki hunched his shoulders, but he held his ground. To move away would be a sign of weakness. He kept his narrowed gaze on Muraki's reflection. "I'm willing to tolerate it in return for answers. Tell me how you're able to manipulate my dreams."

"You carry the stain of my blood. Your hands, your face...soaked with my blood." Muraki nuzzled his earlobe. One hand slid around to caress Tsuzuki's jaw, while the other arm encircled his waist. "I spilled so much that night for you, Tsuzuki-san. You almost bled me dry. For no other would I willingly sacrifice so much."

Tsuzuki turned away, his expression shuttered. "You brought this on yourself. There was no sacrifice involved."

Muraki tilted Tsuzuki's jaw up, and pressed his lips against the exposed flesh along the side of his neck. "There's no need for false modesty with me, Tsuzuki-san. You don't have to hide your true nature any longer."

Tsuzuki parted his lips on a denial, but it became a soundless O of surprise. Muraki's silver hair fell over his shoulder as he bit gently. The muscles of his body pressed against Tsuzuki from behind, imprisoning him. His hot wet mouth moved restlessly over Tsuzuki's skin, even licking at the line of the shirt collar in his impatience to taste more.

If he had any uncertainty about what was happening, the reflection of their twined bodies in the reflection left no room for doubt. Muraki's hands shifted beneath his coat and vest, outstretched fingers creating a delicious friction as he slid the thin material of the shirt against Tsuzuki's overheated skin. Tsuzuki shivered as the hand traced lazy circles above the waistband of his trousers. Below the waistband, heat pooled in his groin. He couldn't take much more of this...

Tsuzuki clutched the Gushoshin with one arm, and grabbed one of Muraki's roving hands with the other. The black leather glove formed an elegant manacle around Muraki's wrist.

"Direct me," Muraki muttered against Tsuzuki's cheek. He tried to move his hand lower, but was restrained by Tsuzuki's grip. "Show me where to touch you. Teach me how to give you pleasure."

Tsuzuki shook his head, an act of denial and an attempt to clear his mind.

"I am yours to command." The words were breathed into Tsuzuki's neck. "From the moment you marked me in Kyoto, you made me yours."

"You're insane." Tsuzuki looked away from the mirrored door. It taunted him with sensual images that made his insides clench in frustrated arousal. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The doors of the elevator slid open, revealing a lounge room of muted grey and white. The furnishings were spare and modern, almost austere in their minimalism. Glass panels extending almost from floor to ceiling provided panoramic views of the city below.

Tsuzuki stiffened. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. He could sense a powerful spiritual presence inside.

Muraki let out a regretful sigh. "Well, here we are." He released Tsuzuki and picked up the discarded sweet boxes. "Please make yourself at home."

Tsuzuki scrambled out, Gushoshin tucked under his arm, grateful for the reprieve. Muted wall lights switched on as he passed, making him start in surprise.

"Motion sensitive detectors," Muraki explained as he went to the kitchen. "It saves me the trouble of fumbling for a light switch." He opened one of the sweet boxes and frowned at the contents. "I can't believe one man can eat so much. If you were a normal human, I would be obliged to lecture you about the many health risks associated with excessive sugar intake."

Tsuzuki looked around. There was no other person in the room besides him and Muraki, yet he could still sense an ominous presence lurking in the shadows. "Do you live here alone?"

"No, I share it with one other. Don't tell me you're jealous?"

Something small and furry slid against Tsuzuki's legs. Tsuzuki jumped in surprise.

A pair of iridescent grey eyes looked up at him from under the shadows of the coffee table.

"I see you've found my companion." Muraki came over with a bottle of sake in an ice bucket and two cups. He placed them on the table, and picked up the small white kitten. "You shouldn't creep up on people," he said to the kitten as he held it to his chest.

The animal rubbed its head against Muraki in greeting, its small body dwarfed by Muraki's hands.

Muraki smiled as he lifted it to eye level. "Tsuzuki-san is my guest." He turned the kitten around so it looked at Tsuzuki. "I want you to be on your best behaviour tonight."

The kitten eyed Tsuzuki with large unblinking grey eyes. Tsuzuki returned the gaze evenly. It let out a loud meow and wriggled in Muraki's grasp.

"I've never seen it so excitable before. It must like you very much. Would you like to hold it?"

Tsuzuki shook his head. The wide grey eyes watched him with a predator-like intensity that made him uneasy. For all its fluffy cuteness, the kitten crackled with spiritual energy.

Muraki was watching him with the same intent expression. "So you dislike cats, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki ruffled the feathers of the dozing Gushoshin. "I have nothing against cats, but they don't go well with birds. Maybe another time."

The kitten meowed again, sounding more plaintive.

"Tsuzuki-san has spoken. As our guest, we must honour his wishes." Muraki placed it back on the ground. "Shall I take your coat? It must be wet from the rain."

"No, thank you." Tsuzuki walked over to the large windows. Lightning flashes were still visible further out to sea. The worse of the storm had moved on, but the city was still receiving heavy rain.

"As you wish. I'm going to change. Please feel free to pour yourself some chilled sake. It is an excellent ginjo-shu, something I suspect is well beyond your means, ne?"

Tsuzuki refused to rise to the bait. "Probably." He kept his eyes on the view until the bedroom door closed.

Tsuzuki pulled out a couple of barrier fuda and tucked them beneath the Gushoshin's hat. He placed the Gushoshin on the lounge, then pulled out several illusion fuda and quickly shrugged out of his coat. It slithered to the floor in one smooth motion. He stepped over it and went to the kitchen.

After lining the fuda in a row on the kitchen bench, he unbuttoned the sleeve of his shirt to expose his wrist. With a small peeling knife he made a neat incision above the old scars. Blood flowed freely from the wound. He let it spill over the paper charms, obscuring the characters written on their parched surface.

Illusion fuda required blood to be activated. As the paper absorbed the blood, the magic absorbed the imprint of the individual.

Maybe this was a cowardly course of action, but Tsuzuki needed time.

He let the wound heal up, a slight itching sensation. Then he buttoned his sleeve, washed the knife, and took the fuda with him to the living room. He quickly pulled on his coat and placed all the bloodstained fuda in his pocket except for one. This he held between his index and middle finger.

The words came to his lips easily, the hand movements were smooth and automatic. It was one of the first spells he had learned as a new Shinigami recruit. He remembered Konoe jumping up and down in frustration at the dozens of Tsuzukis he'd created the first time he had mastered the spell. Tsuzuki thought they could all pitch in to reduce the workload at the Shoukanka. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten about his own innate laziness, a trait that had been inherited by all sixty-four of his doppelganger selves. The memory brought a smile to his face.

His illusion self stood before him, dressed in the black trench coat, vest and trousers. Its attire was identical to Tsuzuki's.

"Go to the window," Tsuzuki said. "Wait for him."

The kitten prowled on the backrest, hungrily eyeing the Gushoshin, but it jumped off at Tsuzuki's approach. Tsuzuki wasn't worried; the fuda was guaranteed to repel any malicious attack, whether physical or magical. He sat down on the lounge, the bird-spirit in his lap, his gloved hands interlaced as if in prayer. His double also waited, its lean figure forming a willowy silhouette against the stormy sky and city lights below.

Tsuzuki was struck by its air of fragile vulnerability. Was that how he appeared to others? It was a disconcerting thought.

The bedroom door opened. A whispered word, and Tsuzuki's corporeal form vanished into nothingness.

The kitten jumped onto the armrest and meowed at the empty space left behind.

Muraki padded barefoot across the room to the window. He was free of his glasses, and wore a white yukata that reached down to his mid-calf. His silver hair was still tousled as it fell in disarray about his face, obscuring his false eye from view. Although he was only a few inches taller than Tsuzuki, the sureness in his movements spoke of power tightly leashed.

The doppelganger sensed it too. He took a nervous step back.

Muraki looked at him for a long moment, as if he was committing his features to memory.

"You have a beautiful view from up here," the double said.

"Do you think so? I think it would be even more beautiful if you removed your clothes."

"What?? What did you say?" The double flushed, hopelessly flustered. "You...you..."

Tsuzuki sighed, but he knew he would have done the same. He could hardly complain if his fuda double was acting true to form.

"You should change into one of my yukatas. I don't know how you can wear so many clothes in this heat."

"Can we stop talking about me? I'm here to ask you questions about your contract."

Taking the initiative at last. This was better.

"You may ask...but I'll be too busy to answer." Muraki grasped the lapels of the trench coat and hauled Tsuzuki close. "I prefer more direct methods of communication."

"Hey! Get your hands off--"

Muraki swooped. The double didn't stand a chance.

Tsuzuki rubbed his temples. He didn't have to watch to know what was happening. The heavy breathing and sounds of shifting cloth told him enough. When he finally had the courage to look up, he saw only one silhouette against the window. Muraki pulled at Tsuzuki's coat with one hand while his lips moved restlessly over his jaw and neck. Lust made his movements desperate and frenzied, devoid of the finesse he'd shown in his dream. He was like a starving man at a banquet.

The double was too stunned to put up even a token resistance. He stood stock still, violet eyes wide in shock, overwhelmed by Muraki's attack.

"Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki yanked the coat off his shoulders. "I need you. Don't deny me." He pushed the double against the window. The reverberating thud of the glass was so loud Tsuzuki feared the window would shatter from the impact.

"Get...off..." The doppelganger gripped Muraki's arms, gloved hands digging into the thin material of the yukata. His eyes were narrowed, teeth bared in anger. He writhed against the glass, squirming to free himself from Muraki's weight.

Muraki smiled, as if pleased with the response, and lowered his head again.

From his position on the lounge, Tsuzuki couldn't see what was happening. The breadth of Muraki's torso seemed to eclipse Tsuzuki's doppelganger self, blocking him from view. All he could see was the white robe, and the shift of lean back and shoulders flexing and shifting beneath the fabric. Muraki's silver head shifted down to the double's shoulder, moving from neck to shoulder tip and back again, his movements frantic in his hunger. The trench coat had already slipped off the double's shoulders, and was now bunched in the crook of his bent elbows.

Distant lightning lit up the night sky, delineating his face for all to see.

Tsuzuki swallowed at the transformation he saw.

The violet eyes were glazed, the pupils dilated so much that he appeared drugged. The snarl was no more, replaced by panting gasps. His head was tilted back against the glass, the collar and tie undone to expose the rise and fall of his throat.

Was this how he looked to Muraki? Helpless in his debauchery...and loving every minute.

The evidence was there for all to see. As Muraki's head moved down to his collarbone and chest, the double's gloved hands tangled in silver hair, urging him closer. The ends of his vest and shirt hung free, revealing whipcord lean muscles for Muraki's delectation. Occasionally it writhed and arched, shoulders braced against the glass, shameless in its arousal.

Muraki delved beneath his shirt, stroking his torso, pulling at the trouser braces with unexpected savagery when it impeded his roving hands. The whispered endearments and flattery were no more; the only sound from him was his heavy breathing, which seemed unnaturally loud in the silence of the room.

On the arm of the lounge chair, the kitten lay quietly on its stomach, but it had no eyes for the two entwined figures by the window. Its gaze was fixed on the empty space on the lounge occupied by Tsuzuki moments before.

Tsuzuki didn't notice. He couldn't look away from the transfixed expression on the double's face...on his face. With his blood, the illusion fuda had conjured a flawless version of himself.

Its responses were his responses. Its desire was his desire. He couldn't delude himself any longer.

_There, but for the grace of God...  
_  
One of Muraki's hands moved lower. Delineated by the folds of the yukata, Tsuzuki watched his elbow shift back and forth in a steady rhythm. The double tensed, his teeth clenched as if in agony.

"Have you missed me, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki hissed against its throat. "Have you hungered for me? Have you wondered if you were going mad maintaining the appearance of self-sufficient normality, while depriving yourself of the one thing you needed the most? You ignore it for days, weeks, months. You push it to the darkest recesses of mind and hope that it dies. You hope...and hope..."

The double turned away, cheek pressed against the glass, eyes squeezed shut. A low groan sounded from its throat.

"...but it's all in vain. There's no escape from yourself. The hunger rebounds on you. It claws at your subconscious and invades your dreams. It becomes an obsession. That's how I feel about you."

Tsuzuki buried his face in his hands. There was no escape...for either of them. They were both certifiably insane.

"One would think that I would have learned my lesson...but there's no reasoning with something as elemental as this. It's like lightning seeking the ground. You interfere with such a force at your peril, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki seized the double's jaw and forced it around. "I must have you. Only you. Your body, your energy, your power...no other will do." He bent forward to kiss the double on the lips.

Tsuzuki couldn't stay still any longer. Shame had frozen him to the spot; disgust propelled him into motion. He stood up in one swift movement, a fuda in one hand, the Gushoshin clutched to his chest.

The kitten yowled loudly.

Tsuzuki froze. The animal was staring directly at him. How did it know...?

Muraki lifted his head. "I see. All is not as it seems."

He turned around, his good eye narrowed, the false eye glowing. His hand slid from the double's jaw to grasp its throat. It vanished in a puff of smoke. Muraki was left holding the remaining paper charm.

"Most impressive, Tsuzuki-san." He crushed the paper in his fist and threw it aside in an uncharacteristic show of temper. "You should have told me you liked to watch. If I'd known, I would have found some way to accommodate you."

Tsuzuki wasn't listening. He paced behind the lounge chair, still invisible to human eyes, his mind a seething cauldron of conflicting emotions. He should have been gloating at how he'd tricked Muraki...but the triumph had been overwhelmed by a desire for violence that shocked him. He wanted to tear Muraki from limb to limb with a pack of wolf spirits. He wanted to rip out his eyes, both false and true. Every word, every touch...it was all a lie. Muraki couldn't even tell him apart from an illusion fuda...

The savagery of his emotions left him stunned.

The kitten yowled again, this time at Muraki. He picked the animal up in his arms and scratched its neck. "Never mind. It will be just us two again, ne?" With a sigh, he sat down on the lounge.

Tsuzuki leaned against the elevator doors, unconsciously hugging the Gushoshin to his chest, his mind whirling. He wasn't jealous. He couldn't be jealous. Muraki was the enemy, the man he'd vowed to bring to justice using any means at his disposal.

_I am yours to command. From the moment you marked me in Kyoto, you made me yours._

An atavistic shiver skidded down his spine, even as he shoved the idea away. Shinigami were not capable of taking possession of a human, despite what the superstitions said. Such nefarious power was a demon's prerogative, not an employee of EnMaCho.

So why say such bizarre things? Surely a man like Muraki, hungry for power, would baulk at the idea of being controlled by anyone. And yet, he'd entered into a contract, one that would surely destroy him. When the demon had claimed its price, it would crush him without mercy.

No. Something in Tsuzuki rebelled at the idea of Muraki being annihilated by another entity, demonic or otherwise.

If anyone were to kill Muraki, it would be him. No interference would be allowed.

Tsuzuki placed the Gushoshin on the floor by the elevator door. He adjusted its hat so that the barrier fuda were visible, a warning to any creature who dared to attack. Then he walked back to the lounge, filled with new purpose.

Muraki watched the flickers of lightning over the horizon. His expression was remote, almost mask-like, the mocking smile replaced by a forbidding line. The kitten lay in his lap, purring as he stroked it. Tsuzuki's gaze was drawn to his long tapered fingers, and the sensual way he moved in slow circles over the delicate curves of the creature's spine.

Could the feline be a familiar? Such a low-level demon could easily be commanded by humans. But the power radiating from the kitten puzzled him. It seemed unusually strong for a typical familiar, but it behaved much like a domestic feline. It stretched lazily under Muraki's fingers, luxuriating in his touch, eyes blissfully shut.

Muraki's gaze never wavered from the lightning display. He continued the stroking, seemingly unaffected by the animal's response. With his ramrod- straight back, his elegantly crossed legs...he possessed a mixture of harsh severity and raw sensuality that drew Tsuzuki like a moth to a flame.

Tatsumi had displayed a similar type of nature at times: an occasional touch, an unguarded embrace. Unfortunately he kept it under such rigid control in his daily life, as if he was secretly ashamed of it. But Muraki wasn't ashamed at all. He lived it, breathed it, used it to get his way-- lavishing it on friend and foe alike. And in Hisoka's case, whether they wanted it or not.

Tsuzuki's anger was fleeting. He couldn't change the past. But with his powers intact, he was in a position to alter the present and future. Muraki had claimed his desire was a weakness. Maybe it was a weakness Tsuzuki could turn to his advantage.

He moved around the lounge, soundless and invisible, until he was behind Muraki. With one gloved hand, he reached around to cup his cheek, his fingertips resting beneath the jawline.

Muraki froze. His hand stilled over the kitten. Maybe he even forgot to breathe, for there was no rise and fall of his chest.

The kitten wriggled out of Muraki's lap and leapt on the table. It hissed at the empty space above Muraki's head.

"Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Tsuzuki's gloved hand. There was a smile in his voice. "I knew you couldn't leave me so soon."

"Be quiet." With his other gloved hand, Tsuzuki enclosed Muraki's throat in a firm grasp.

"Mmm." Muraki lifted his jaw up until he was looking up at the ceiling, his head resting against the lounge. The yukata gaped open, revealing a smooth expanse of white skin covering the slight swell of broad pectoral muscles and the taut muscles of his abdomen. The thin cotton material over his lap provided some shred of modesty, but there was no mistaking the sign of his arousal. "At last. You have no idea how long I've waited for your touch..."

Tsuzuki pressed his fingers along one side of the adam's apple until the rapid-fire pulse pounded against his fingertips. "Do you take me for a fool? You managed to find my illusion distracting enough."

"It was underhanded of you to resort to such trickery," Muraki replied in a husky voice. "You had no reason to use your fuda. I have not killed anyone, nor have I threatened to kill anyone, since my arrival in Nagasaki. I have not attacked you by magical or material means. As long as the moon remains unfulfilled, you will have nothing to fear from me...except the awakening of your hidden desires."

Tsuzuki pressed his fingers a little deeper. "And when the moon becomes full? What then? What evil scheme are you waiting to carry out?"

Muraki winced a little. "I refuse to talk to a man who insists on being incorporeal. Show yourself first."

The air shimmered above him, then solidified into human form. Tsuzuki looked down at him from above, shoulders hunched, violet eyes narrowed to slits. The long black coat cast his figure in gloomy shadow, a startling contrast to Muraki's anaemic pallor.

"Shinigami. Grim Reaper. God of Death. The title has never suited you so well." He reached for the gloved hand against his cheek and guided it to his lips. Lightly he nibbled at Tsuzuki's long fingers. His teeth bit the covered mound of flesh at the base of his thumb, moving up to the exposed skin between the glove and sleeve. His tongue lapped along the delicate skin inside the wrist.

Tsuzuki's grip tightened around his throat. "Stop it. Answer my question." But he didn't pull his other hand away from Muraki's lips. The gesture was strangely reminiscent of how courtiers kissed the hand of royalty as a mark of respect. A form of erotic worship...

"The illusion never tasted so sweet," Muraki murmured. "In appearance and voice he was a perfect imitation, but I realised he was wrong the moment my lips met his. Kissing him was like eating ash; it only left me ravenous for the heat of your all-encompassing fire."

Something almost like pain twisted Tsuzuki's insides. "I'm not here to listen to your insane ravings." He clasped Muraki's throat, fingers encircling the long white throat. "Tell me about your contract. How long have you held it? What are its terms?"

"Kiss me first." Muraki lifted his chin in challenge. "Prove to me you're not a piece of paper."

Tsuzuki eyed him warily, and crushed the quiver of anticipation. "You said you were mine to command, remember?" He slid his gloved hands down to stroke Muraki's collarbone, tracing a line from the base of his throat to shoulder tip. He slid his fingers beneath the ends of the robe, making it gape further apart. "Were you lying to me again?"

Muraki's good eye widened in surprise. "Why, Tsuzuki-san..." He exhaled sharply as Tsuzuki traced cool circles around one nipple. "I never knew...you had a possessive streak." He shifted under the gloved hands, sighing as the smooth sensation of leather slid against his white skin.

"Neither did I." Tsuzuki's voice was strained as he focused on his task. He knew Muraki'a voluptuous nature was a weakness to be used against him. Distract him with sensation; divert him by admiring his beauty--a different type of spell.

Tsuzuki splayed his fingers wide, stroking the swell of broad pectoral muscles. The leather was a barrier between them, preventing him from actually touching Muraki's skin. Denied of sensation, he was free to concentrate on Muraki's response without distraction. He observed the rise and fall of the ribcage, the way the muscles twitched in nervous anticipation, and the pale skin formed goose pimples under his touch. He did his best to ignore the slitted grey eyes watching his every move.

Tsuzuki didn't have Muraki's confident expertise, but he knew enough to give another man pleasure.

But he hadn't counted on his own physical response. His fingertips burned, yet he only felt a hint of warmth through the gloves. His mouth was parched and dry. Perspiration trickled down the back of his neck, down his spine. Heat suffused his flesh, pooled in his groin. Muraki wasn't even touching him, yet his body stirred in sympathetic arousal.

Muraki closed his eyes. "Don't tease me like this." He slipped the yukata off his shoulders, unashamed of his nudity. His cock was erect, a graceful arc arrowing upward. "Touch me, Tsuzuki-san. Please...touch me."

Tsuzuki's hands stilled over Muraki's body. His trousers felt uncomfortably tight. The urge to follow Muraki's plea was clouding his ability to think. "First tell me about your contract."

Muraki exhaled sharply. He lifted one of Tsuzuki's hands to his cheek and rubbed his face against the leather. "Technically it's a covenant, not a contract."

"Covenant?" Tsuzuki had come across that word in old texts, but the exact meaning eluded him. "How is that different from a contract?"

"I thought you'd never ask. Allow me to explain."

Muraki seized his wrist with one hand, grabbed his shoulder with the other. He suddenly twisted and ducked with superhuman strength.

Tsuzuki found himself tumbling head first over the lounge. He landed on the coffee table with a loud bang. The kitten jumped on the lounge, yowling in protest. Pain exploded across his ribcage. The ice bucket, sake bottle and cups clattered to the floor.

Muraki pounced, crushing him against the smooth wood.

"Muraki! What the hell--"

His remaining words were smothered by Muraki's mouth.

Tsuzuki twisted his head, but it was useless. Muraki kissed him with an intensity that bordered on violence, using his teeth and tongue to force Tsuzuki's lips apart. Tsuzuki moaned softly as the inside of his lower lip split against his teeth. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

Forgotten by both men, the kitten lay quietly on the lounge to watch.

Muraki must have tasted the blood. He used his forearms to support himself, taking some of his weight off Tsuzuki. His lips became gentler, soothing. His tongue caressed Tsuzuki's with a slow lingering thoroughness that left Tsuzuki trembling, the earlier pain forgotten. This was what he'd longed for the past three nights. This delicious languor invading his limbs, the sweetness of Muraki's mouth delicately exploring his...the welcome heaviness of his weight imprisoning him against the table.

"Yes." Muraki drew away, his breathing ragged. "Fire and ashes. There really is no comparison." He sighed and began undoing Tsuzuki's tie. "Let me make you more comfortable."

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. Shame raised its ugly head, but it was drowned out by the seductive mix of reason and desire. Information, satiation--this was why he was here. He forced himself to focus on Muraki's words. "Covenant, contract...they're both agreements. What's the difference?"

"A contract details a formal transaction with mutual obligations; for example, a special power given in exchange for one's soul." Muraki undid the collar of the shirt and tasted the hollow of Tsuzuki's throat with his tongue. "But a covenant is much, much more," he muttered. "It is a binding alliance ratified by blood."

"Impossible. Demons don't make alliances with anyone, least of all humans."

Muraki chuckled, a deep sound that reverberated through Tsuzuki's own frame. "If a demon wants something desperately enough, it will do anything to get it. If the intervention of a human can bring it closer to its objective, why not an alliance?" He undid the buttons of the black vest, removed the braces with one careful flick of his fingers. Then he went back to the buttons of the shirt, his movements careful and controlled...totally unlike his earlier ferocity. "It would be a mutually advantageous agreement. Such a union can accomplish much more than either party acting alone." He pressed his lips against the bare flesh of Tsuzuki's torso, his tongue lapping at the dew of perspiration running along his chest to his abdomen. "Mmm. You even taste sweet here, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki shivered. His gloved hands gripped the sides of the table. The refined delicacy of Muraki's touch was killing him. His cock was pressing against his trousers, pushing eagerly against the material. Each time Muraki shifted against him, a jolt of pleasure-pain went through his groin, intensifying the ache. His clothing was no barrier; it simply became a perfect medium to amplify the delicious friction. He arched his hips against Muraki's nude body, blindly seeking release.

"Such impatience." Muraki bit a nipple in mischievous reproach, then lapped it gently, sending delicious ripples of pleasure through Tsuzuki's writhing body. His hands slid over his waist, sharp nails digging into his skin. "Do you want to end this so quickly?"

Tsuzuki whimpered, a pitiful sound of need escaping past tightly clenched teeth. Bracing his feet against the floor, he bucked against Muraki's hold, his pelvis lifting off the table then falling back on the table with a heavy thud.

Muraki gripped the edges of the table to brace himself. "I suppose I have my answer." With his knees on either side of Tsuzuki's thighs, he loomed over him like a predator eyeing his next meal. The good eye was narrowed in concentration. The false eye glittered like a brilliant jewel.

The sight of the eye brought Tsuzuki to his senses for a moment. "How...how long have you been under the covenant?"

"Since Kyoto. Prior to that, it was a contract like any other. But after it saved my life, we...renegotiated terms." Muraki slid his hand over Tsuzuki's crotch, his fingers stroking the material over the growing bulge. "Well, well. Is this all for me, Tsuzuki-san?" He pulled down the zipper, then slid his hand inside to stroke the erection

Tsuzuki jerked, his body no longer under his control. Pleasure was too weak a word to describe the electrical jolts elicited by Muraki's touch. It melted inhibitions and short-circuited reason, leaving him reborn as a creature hungry for sensation...and eager to reciprocate. He reached out to caress his tormentor, his gloved hands clutching hard muscles and sharp angles. Muraki's skin seemed unearthly, its colour the same hue as bleached bone.

"Ahh." Muraki shivered and flexed beneath Tsuzuki's touch. "That's it. Touch me." His fingers milked Tsuzuki's shaft with growing insistence, the rhythm of his hand increasing in tempo.

It was too much for Tsuzuki. Sparks of pleasure emanated from his cock, triggered by the friction of Muraki's hand. It surged through his trembling body, setting nerve-endings ablaze with sweet fire, forcing a growl from his throat. His body shifted and flexed in a frenzy of motion, driven by the surfeit of sensation to inflict his own torment. He bit into the smooth perfection of Muraki's shoulder, relishing the salty slickness of human skin. His hands swept the powerful shoulder blades, skimming over the waist and hip to the small of his back, then down to lean buttocks that seemed tailor-made for his grasping hands. He squeezed blindly, his fingers dipping into the sensitive cleft as he sought to convey his need without words.

Muraki hissed sharply. He let go of Tsuzuki and lifted his head, the false eye glowing. "What are you doing?"

Tsuzuki was past caring. For decades he had bottled up this ugly part of himself, ashamed of this hunger for physical satiation that terrified him with its intensity. Was it a legacy of his demonic ancestry? He had always wondered, but he'd never had the courage to ask. In any case, he doubted anyone at EnMaCho would understand this craving. For all their kindness and understanding, they would be appalled if they knew.

Muraki was the first person he'd met who seemed to have some inkling...but maybe even he had his limits.

"There are different types of possession," Tsuzuki murmured. He lifted his head to nip at Muraki's earlobe. He drew the glittering ruby stud into his mouth, allowing the gem to clatter against his teeth as he toyed with it using his tongue. The texture of its jagged sharpness made for a delicious counterpoint to the warm soft flesh of the earlobe.

Muraki exhaled slowly. He tilted his head to one side, inviting more.

Tsuzuki traced the angle of a hip, tracing the scars he'd inflicted months ago in Kyoto. "Not all of them entail pain and suffering. Some methods can be extremely...enjoyable." He dared to stroke the cleft again, the cool leather slowly circling the narrow opening

Muraki froze, every muscle locked in tension. His bowed his head, avoiding Tsuzuki's gaze. "I vowed to kill the last person who fucked me."

"Oh." Even though Muraki's voice remained even, Tsuzuki could sense the fear emanating from him. "And did you?"

Muraki's lips twisted. "I developed an elaborate plan to bring him back to life...but it didn't quite go according to plan, ne?"

Saki. The half-brother Muraki had vowed to resurrect so he could have the pleasure of killing him personally. Tsuzuki didn't know the full story behind their relationship, but he suspected it was traumatic and ugly. Was it anything like the twisted relationship he shared with Muraki? Violence breeding violence in a self-perpetuating cycle...

A splash of cold water could not have been more effective. Tsuzuki lay back against the table, his arms falling to his side.

Muraki looked at him, his gaze cool and remote as an arctic glacier. The false eye was dim once again. "What's wrong?"

Everything was wrong. Tsuzuki resisted the urge to laugh like a madman. He clung to the remaining shred of sanity he had left. "I wonder..." He cleared his throat. "Earlier you offered me sake. May I have some now?"

Muraki blinked. Of all the responses he was expecting, this wasn't one of them. "You want sake?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Tsuzuki said sheepishly. "I haven't had anything to drink all evening."

Muraki looked annoyed. He straightened up, resting on his haunches, his good eye clouded with suspicion. "Is that all you want? To drink sake?" He reached down to grasp Tsuzuki's cock. It jerked and hardened in automatic reaction. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Tsuzuki shut his eyes and schooled his muscles to stillness. "Please...pour me some sake."

Muraki encircled Tsuzuki's shaft with both hands, leaving the sensitive head peeking out from his cage of fingers. Using his thumb, he caressed the exposed flesh in slow circles. "You don't sound very convincing, Tsuzuki- san. Is there anything else you want?"

Tsuzuki shook his head, eyes still tightly shut. He gripped the ends of the table so he didn't betray himself by his actions. But his body was singing again, glorying in the shimmering pleasure evoked by Muraki's touch. It required all his willpower to resist the urge to buck and writhe and plead for more.

With a growl, Muraki slid off the low table to kneel on the floor. He grabbed Tsuzuki's hips and dragged him closer until his legs were dangling from the table, then pulled his trousers down, yanking his shoes off at the same time.

Tsuzuki's eyes flew open. "What...what are you doing?"

"I want to hear you beg, Tsuzuki-san. If sake is all you want, then prove it to me." He bent forward, lips wide, and took the cock deep in his mouth.

Tsuzuki convulsed. The pleasure engulfed him. Everything else ceased to exist. His world was narrowed down to his cock and Muraki's eager sucking.

He drank with the same determination he had shown in the dream, willingly allowing it to slide past his lips, along his tongue and down his throat. His tongue eagerly lapped at the precome, collecting it and laving it over the throbbing head. There was no hesitation or pause; on the contrary, he manipulated Tsuzuki as if he'd been hungering for this his entire life.

Tsuzuki couldn't help the moans leaving his throat, perfectly matched with each slide of his cock down Muraki's throat. He twisted on the tabletop, his hips shifting as he fought the rising tide of pleasure. "Please..." He was barely aware of the word passing his lips. "Please...Muraki..."

Muraki chuckled, once again confident of his power. "I knew it." He lapped at Tsuzuki's testicles, drawing one into his mouth to suckle at it lightly, then releasing it with a soft pop. "I knew it. From the moment we first met...it was only a matter of time." His false eye began to glow again.

Damn him. Tsuzuki shuddered beneath him, willpower melting. His appetite for the physical was not like other people; it was all consuming and total. Gluttony for sweets could be disguised as childish greed...but there was no acceptable disguise for sexual lust. He couldn't deny himself. He'd never been able to do so.

What was the point in hiding?

He had learnt the futility of running from himself in Kyoto. Oblivion was no escape. But he had no intention of being a puppet or a doll, to be toyed with and discarded once boredom set in. If Muraki thought he could manipulate him at will, he had another thing coming.

He reached for the floor, gloved fingers grappling for something, anything. The smooth hardness of the sake bottle was perfect. Grasping its neck, he slowly lifted it up...and swung it down.

Muraki didn't have to look up. He intercepted it with one smooth motion, his hand grabbing the bottle in mid-air. The slap of glass against the skin of his palm echoed in the room like a thunderclap.

Tsuzuki clenched his jaw. He couldn't move the bottle any further, even with gravity in his favour.

Slowly Muraki lifted his head, the false eye burning bright, his mouth a tightly compressed line. They stared at each other for several seconds, each gripping the bottle between them...neither prepared to give an inch.

On the lounge, the kitten watched carefully, its gaze shifting from one to the other.

Muraki relaxed his grip slightly, allowing the bottle to slide through his grasp. His lips curved in a rueful smile. "So you'd like some sake, Tsuzuki- san?" he asked with exaggerated courtesy. "What temperature? This grade is best served chilled, but if you'd like it warm or hot...?"

A truce...for the time being.

"Chilled is fine, thank you." Tsuzuki released his grip slowly, and allowed Muraki to take the bottle.


	7. Seduction and sake

Explicit sex ahead.

26/7/04 - Thanks to Ardwynna Morrigu for the grammar correction.

* * *

Tsuzuki pulled on his trousers, but he left the shoes off. It required too much effort to do up the rest of his attire. He buttoned up the trench coat to preserve his modesty, leaving his shirt and vest undone underneath. 

Muraki put his white yukata on again. He took the bottle, cups and the half- empty ice bucket to the kitchen, indifferent to the melted ice staining the carpet. He came back with a newly filled ice bucket, washed cups, plus a crystal ashtray.

Tsuzuki sat on one side of the lounge, chin resting in one hand. The lightning and thunder was gone, but heavy rain still drenched the city. The kitten had taken a liking to him, and was happily rubbing its head against his thigh. He idly scratched its ears.

"Does your cat have a name?" he asked.

Muraki paused as he sat down, as if debating whether to tell the truth. "No. Not really." He was smiling to himself as he pulled out his cigarettes and lighter from the folds of his robe.

Tsuzuki picked up the creature. The energy he had sensed earlier was subdued, maybe masked. Only creatures of great power were able to control their spiritual emanations. He'd never been any good at it himself. So it couldn't be a familiar. Besides, familiars were intensely loyal by nature...nothing like this animal. It purred as it nestled in his arms, all too happy in his embrace. If it was loyal to Muraki, it was doing a poor job of showing it.

He put it back down on the lounge. When it tried to climb in his lap, he crossed his legs and gently pushed it toward its master.

"Traitor," Muraki said without heat or anger.

The feline meowed at him in apology and scrambled to rest in his lap instead.

Muraki opened the bottle. Tsuzuki lifted his cup to assist with the pouring, holding it with two hands as dictated by custom.

"Thank you," Tsuzuki said.

"You're welcome."

This situation seemed so unreal. Minutes ago they were lying on the table wrestling like animals; now they were serving sake on it and carefully observing etiquette like polite strangers.

Tsuzuki took a cautious sip. The sake was light with a delicate fruitiness he found pleasing. He was more accustomed to tasting table sake that was warmed to bring out the aroma and sweetness. This was very different. It was crisp and cool on his tongue.

"It tastes good, ne? Ginjo-shu is much more complex than the cheaper grades."

"Yes." Tsuzuki took another sip. "I'm more accustomed to drinking sake warm."

"Not sake of this quality. Much of the flavour would be lost." Muraki took a sip from his own cup. He rested back against the lounge. "On the other hand, warming table sake balances the flavour and makes it much more palatable." He shrugged. "In the end, it's a personal choice."

Tsuzuki nodded, and took another sip.

Muraki lit a cigarette with a neat flick of the lighter. For an instant, the light gave his aristocratic features an inhuman cast, reminiscent of an idol cast in gold. When it winked out, he was left with his usual anaemic pallor. He inhaled the smoke and let it curl slowly from his nostrils with a satisfied sigh.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. The rain was the only sound in the room as it beat against the windows, a soothing background tattoo of noise. But it was impossible for Tsuzuki to ignore Muraki's presence. He found himself watching the man's sharply defined profile as he smoked in silence.

Muraki didn't seem to mind. He cast Tsuzuki a sidelong look filled with amused curiosity as he flicked ash into the tray. "Yes, Tsuzuki-san?"

"Why do you smoke?" Tsuzuki asked without thinking. "You of all people should know the hazards of smoking. Why engage it such a counterproductive activity when you're seeking eternal life?"

Muraki shrugged. "It's a habit I picked up at university. I needed something to stay awake while cramming for exams. Nicotine is a potent stimulant. Unfortunately, it's also extremely addictive." He smiled suddenly. "All the more reason for me to seek out immortality while I can, ne? Of course, I make sure to warn my patients not to follow my terrible example."

"You could set a good example by quitting."

"I could...but where's the fun in that?" He took a sip of sake. "I believe in enjoying the pleasures of life while I can. Life is too short to deny oneself." He put down his cup, and stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette. "What I can't understand is why a beautiful young man blessed with supernatural abilities and a promising future ahead of him would want to kill himself." He rested his jaw on his upraised hand, eyes regarding Tsuzuki almost affectionately. "So why did you do it?"

Tsuzuki looked down at his cup. No one had ever asked him this before. How to answer such a deceptively simple question?

The sake within was as clear as water. He couldn't even see a reflection.

"Guilt," he said. He put down his cup. "My abilities were a curse, not a blessing. In the end, there wasn't anything left worth living for."

Muraki waved his hand dismissively. "Guilt, like regret, is a useless emotion. There's no point in mulling over what might have been." A hint of censure crept into his voice. "The past cannot be rewritten. Learn from your mistakes and move on. The passage of time will take care of the rest."

Tsuzuki studied him. There was something about his manner...as if he spoke from personal experience.

"So you've never felt guilt or regret for anything you've done? You show no remorse for the lives you've ruined...but what about patients who have died while under your care? What about the deaths of people you tried to save? Surely you must have some misgivings--"

"I purged such tender emotions from my heart years ago, Tsuzuki-san. I am a surgeon, and surgery is the art of judicious butchery. A surgeon cannot afford to be concerned about the feelings of a patient when he is sawing their sternum open. As part of my training, I learned to narrow my focus to the task at hand." He brushed his overlong silver hair from his face, revealing the unnaturally wide false eye. "It proved to be ideal practice for practising occult magic. I discovered I could cast spells to make corpses do my bidding, and use my hands to kill instead of heal. I learned how to feed off the suffering of others, instead of raging over their irreversible decline." He closed his eyes, as if recalling a blissful memory. "The power was intoxicating. Such sweetness..."

Tsuzuki curled his hands into fists. "How long ago was this? Was that when you first entered into a contract?"

"How long has the boy been a Shinigami?"

Tsuzuki froze. For the first time that evening, he was afraid. "What...what has Hisoka got to do with this?"

"The night we met was a night of many firsts. By the light of a blood red moon, I committed my first murder as sacrifice. I was careless and dizzy with my success, for I didn't see him observing me. He witnessed everything. I couldn't let him escape. So that same night, I cast my first curse on the skin of that beautiful boy."

Tsuzuki suddenly rose to his feet, arms tightly folded over his chest. It was either that or wringing Muraki's neck. Hisoka had never spoken directly of what had happened that night, but the nightmares and scarlet markings over his torso and arms told its own terrible tale.

Muraki took a sip of sake. He watched Tsuzuki from above the rim of the cup, eyes narrowed. "Is there something wrong?"

"Your spell-casting skills are flawed," Tsuzuki told him icily. "The marks you painted on his skin no longer glow bright red. They fade a little more, day by day. Eventually he will be free of your insidious influence for good."

"I'm surprised he wasn't free of it years ago. I was only a beginner at the time. To think that he still carried the markings in death...how interesting. He must have clung tightly to the curse...to the emotions I awakened in him." He placed the cup down, chuckling softly. "I never knew he cared so much."

Tsuzuki grabbed the lapels of Muraki's yukata and hauled him to his feet. "You bastard."

Muraki straightened, his cool grey gaze defiant. "Are you any better? You want him for yourself, ne? And it drives you mad to know I've had him first."

"Silence!" Tsuzuki yanked Muraki closer, his knuckles pressing into Muraki's throat. The temptation to strangle him was overwhelming.

But Muraki was almost amused...as if he was expecting the show of temper. As if he was waiting for Tsuzuki to snap.

"Do you like young boys, Tsuzuki-san? They are beautiful and pliant, and easy to manipulate to one's will. But there is no real challenge or excitement in playing with one so inexperienced. He would have bored you in less than an hour."

"Hisoka is not a toy, dammit. He's not a doll to be discarded once you're finished with him!" Tsuzuki took a deep breath in, fighting for calm. "I know you've suffered in the past, but that's no excuse--"

"I'm not making excuses. I'm not after sympathy." Muraki dismissed the notion with a snort of disgust. "Never mind about the boy. Wherever he is, he has nothing to fear from either of us tonight. He can enjoy the sleep of the virtuous...and leave us adults free to indulge in our own pursuits." He tilted his head, and rubbed his jaw against Tsuzuki's gloved fingers. "You need someone with experience to ignite your passion. He couldn't even begin to scratch the surface of your desire."

"Right now I desire answers. What's the purpose of this 'alliance'? What are you really after?"

Muraki undid the sash of his robe, allowing it to hang open. He was still erect. "Touch me first, then I will answer your questions." He lifted one side of his robe to reveal the jagged keloid scars on his torso, running from ribcage to hip and curling around to his back. Several lines intersected repeatedly, as if the knife had been dragged across and plunged in again and again. "Admire your handiwork...the proof of your possession. They ache and keep me awake at night. They cry out for your touch."

This was the first time Tsuzuki had seen them properly. Even in the muted lighting, they looked ugly: thick rope-like markings discoloured dark red. Yet despite the disfiguring markings, his body was still virile and athletic.

Still desirable--maybe even more so. A reminder of his humanity and vulnerability.

Tsuzuki traced them with his gloved fingers. "For weeks I felt remorse for what I did. I'd remember you bleeding on the floor where I'd left you to die." His voice hardened. "Now I wish I'd stabbed you even more. I wish I'd marked you everywhere." He met Muraki's eyes. "Tell me the purpose of your alliance."

Muraki held Tsuzuki's wrist, guiding him to stroke his hip and waist. "When I felt the coldness of death pass over me, I knew that I wanted to live. I would give anything for a second chance at life." He leaned closer to whisper in Tsuzuki's ear. "There were too many things I wanted to do, too many things I wanted to experience. It promised to help me." He hissed as Tsuzuki found a sensitive spot. "It hurts a little there. The innervation of the scar tissue is abnormal. Some areas are numb, others are hypersensitive."

"Oh." Tsuzuki withdrew his hand, suddenly self-conscious. He was the one who inflicted these terrible scars. What on earth was he caressing them for? "What...what does the demon get in return? What is his goal?"

"Don't pull away." Muraki grabbed Tsuzuki's wrist, and lifted the gloved hand to his lips. Taking hold of one fingertip between his teeth, he pulled off the leather glove in one smooth motion and let it drop to the floor. "I need you to touch me."

"I need you to answer my question. What is the demon after?"

Muraki kissed Tsuzuki's palm, then let go. "He wants to experience what it is like to be human."

Tsuzuki stared. It couldn't be that simple. "Why?"

Muraki shrugged. "Why not?" He picked up the ice bucket and the two glasses. "It's getting late. Let's continue this interview in bed."

The sheer audacity of the statement left Tsuzuki stunned. "In bed? What are you--"

But Muraki had already glided past him to enter the bedroom. Tsuzuki had no choice but to follow.

Inside it was dark. Curtains filtered out most of the light from outside. Muraki flicked on a bedside lamp, casting the room in a soft golden glow. He placed the bucket and glasses on the night table.

"Muraki! You're not taking this seriously!"

Muraki lifted an eyebrow as he took off his robe and hung it on a nearby chair. "I'm not laughing, am I? I am being perfectly serious." He pulled down the blankets and stretched himself out on the double bed, completely uninhibited about his nudity. With one hand he began to stroke himself with slow lazy strokes.

Tsuzuki stood by the bed, eyes wide as saucers. This was insane. He should walk out...but he couldn't even look away. "What...how..." He cleared his throat. "Why?"

"You've strung me along all night, Tsuzuki-san. You tricked me with your fuda double. You attacked me with a sake bottle." Muraki's voice was husky and soft, both false and true eyes slitted in pleasure. "How much am I supposed to take, hmm? I am only human."

Tsuzuki watched the hypnotic movement of Muraki's hand as it rose and fell, his long fingers wrapped around himself. His cock lengthened and swelled in his grasp. A flush of arousal spread over the broad planes of his torso, replacing the pallor with a warm glow.

Tsuzuki felt his face flush. The back of his neck prickled with heat. His clothes were an annoying encumbrance weighing him down, holding him back...

Muraki closed his eyes, lips parted on a sigh. His hips began to thrust upward with athletic grace and barely-suppressed violence, pounding into an imaginary lover. A low groan sounded in his throat.

Tsuzuki imagined himself bending over Muraki to receive each thrust. A wave of longing, sharp and sweet, suffused his entire being.

He wanted Muraki. To possess him, to be possessed by him...all his conflicted emotions coalesced into a searing agony that cried for release. His loyalties and friendships, his over-burdened conscience... they splintered like dry wood, ready fuel for the fire raging within him.

Tsuzuki pulled at the buttons of his coat with clumsy fingers. He swore as his wrist was caught in his sleeve--it took two hard yanks to pull it free, along with the remaining glove. The vest and shirt were discarded with the coat on the floor. He was half out of his trousers when he clambered on the bed.

Muraki grabbed him, hauled him down into a frenzied kiss of lips and teeth. There was no finesse or gentleness; only a devouring hunger that demanded satiation. His tongue thrust into Tsuzuki's mouth to feed from him, its slick wetness a taunting reminder of a more intimate penetration to come. His mouth tasted of bitter tobacco mingled with sweet sake.

Tsuzuki gasped into the kiss. Muraki's unyielding body was like an incinerator, the heat radiating from him more than a match for Tsuzuki's own. The contact provided no relief; it only inflamed his senses further. He tore his mouth away to kiss the exposed white throat, his tongue lapping at the perspiration, caressing the prominence of the adam's apple with predatory intent.

Muraki growled and writhed beneath him. Tsuzuki felt the vibration of sound against his lips, like the purring of a large cat. He began to rock against Muraki's flesh with sinuous grace, creating a delicious friction as he aligned their trapped erections together. Sparks danced along his nerve- endings, rewarding and urging him on. Even the convulsive grip of Muraki's hands couldn't hold him still. Tsuzuki was barely aware of the sharp nails drawing blood as they dug into his waist.

"Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki's voice was ragged, uneven. His chest rose and fell in panting gasps. "Not like this..." His hands moved down to Tsuzuki's hip, his powerful grip moulding skin to bone as he stilled the maddening thrusts. He wound his long legs around Tsuzuki's and rolled him so they lay side by side. "Let's make this last."

Tsuzuki twisted against him in an abortive attempt to break free. It only drew more blood from his wounded flesh. "Scratch me all you like, but pain means nothing to me."

"I'm aware of your high threshold for pain." Muraki eased his grip and reversed their positions with a neat twist of his torso. "But what about your threshold for pleasure, hmm?" He pressed Tsuzuki into the mattress as he leaned forward to kiss him again. His lips were gentle and delicate, a soothing contrast to his earlier savagery. His silver hair caressed Tsuzuki's face, a feather-light touch against his skin. "Have you ever wondered how much pleasure you can bear?"

Tsuzuki shivered in spite of himself. "No."

Muraki reached for the nightstand drawer. "We should test it tonight, ne?" His erection throbbed as it slid against Tsuzuki's thigh, its impatience a contrast to the seductive drawl of his voice.

Tsuzuki arched against him and grabbed his outstretched arm impatiently. "Don't bother. I don't need it."

Something flickered in Muraki's good eye. "Maybe so, but I want to prepare you anyway."

The lubricant was different from his dreams: a jar instead of a bottle. Muraki slid a generous amount over himself, masturbating as he lay on his side, eyes partially obscured by silver hair. The soft lighting smudged the angles and planes of his physique, giving him the illusion of vulnerability and softness. Tsuzuki watched in rapt silence, fascinated by the severe expression on Muraki's face. He seemed so focused on his task as he brought his flesh to heel, gripping the shaft to take the edge off his arousal. Tsuzuki wondered if his experience as a surgeon was responsible for his detached demeanour--perhaps he was well accustomed to dealing with the vagaries of human flesh.

Muraki took more lubricant in his fingers. Tsuzuki lifted his knees up, muscles trembling in anticipation. Soon Muraki would be inside him, filling him, satisfying some of the forbidden need at long last. The thought excited him, even as it filled him with trepidation. He didn't want to need anyone this much.

With a twisted smile, Muraki embraced him. His arm slid over Tsuzuki's hip, drifted over the lean curve of his buttock to slide within the cleft. His fingers circled the entrance to his body as if to taunt him. So near, and yet so far.

"Don't...don't play with me."

Muraki kissed his damp forehead. "I can't help it. You look so cute when you're helpless."

Tsuzuki quivered, aching with longing. "Damn you," he whispered.

"After you," Muraki replied softly, and slid inside with one deep stroke.

Tsuzuki cried out. He couldn't help it. This was better than the dreams. Muraki knew the nerves to stimulate; he slid over the sensitive prostate with a sureness Tsuzuki found breathtaking. The pleasure sizzled through him, sending jolts to his aching cock. He clutched Muraki's shoulders, desperate for a rock to cling to as the sensations sent his sanity reeling.

Muraki pulled him closer, nuzzling his cheek. He drove his fingers deeper still, exploring him, filling him. Preparing him. "I know you can take this," he whispered. "This is a taste of what's to come."

Tsuzuki shut his eyes. This was sex. Purely sex. This hunger was a relic of his demon blood that needed to be fed...that was all. This wasn't about love, and they both knew it. For all his references to the familiar symbols of romantic love, Muraki understood the baseness and cruelty of lust. And Muraki was an ideal partner to share this urge: he played the role of seducer so well, saving Tsuzuki the effort of searching for another to satisfy this need.

Best of all, there was no need to worry about destroying a friendship when the hunger burned itself out. Not that there was any danger of it happening at the moment.

Tsuzuki rested his forehead against Muraki's chest, lips parted as he gasped in time to the strokes. His body was adjusting to the sensations, nerve-endings no longer firing at every single touch. Now and then a sizzling jolt threatened his control, making him shudder, but for the most part it had settled to a slow burn that throbbed and ached inside him.

"It feels good, ne?" Muraki rubbed his jaw against the top of Tsuzuki's head.

Tsuzuki nodded. His skin was dewed with perspiration. He felt so hot, as if he were in the grip of a febrile illness. He pressed his mouth against Muraki's white skin, marking it with lips and teeth. He traced the scars with his nails, unconsciously reinforcing the marks he'd made in Kyoto.

Muraki shivered, and withdrew his fingers. "How could you imagine ending your life and denying yourself this?" He rolled Tsuzuki on his back and loomed over him from above, silver hair falling into his eyes. "Something this good should be experienced again and again, branded into one's neural circuits so it is never forgotten." He knelt between Tsuzuki's legs, and easily lifted his pelvis up onto his lap. With his hands he held up Tsuzuki's knees and opened him up.

Tsuzuki clutched the sheets, eyes narrowed to slits. He could feel the cock slowly impaling him, sliding into him...and it felt like a homecoming. He'd prepared himself for pain, for violence and force...so he was stunned at how easy it was. It was as if they were old lovers; despite the gulf separating them, their bodies merged together with the ease of long familiarity. Words were superfluous, an unnecessary distraction from this intimate and elemental form of communication. His muscles clung then relaxed around the unyielding hardness, a gentle rippling that elicited a low growl from Muraki's throat.

"Ahhh...Tsuzuki-san..."

Above him, he could see Muraki, head lifted high to expose his long throat, slanted eyes shut as if in prayer. Even partially in shadow, his expression was transformed, free of mockery or wicked amusement, as if he'd discovered a higher plane of existence, a private nirvana of his own.

But this wasn't what Tsuzuki wanted. He wanted Muraki to be closer to earth tonight.

He greedily took the rest of him in, welcoming the twinge of pain that came with it. There. That was it.

"Mmm." Muraki trembled as he shifted within the wet heat of Tsuzuki's body. "You're...very good." Slowly he began to stroke Tsuzuki's cock, rewarding and encouraging him.

Tsuzuki didn't waste his breath with words. He began to thrust his hips, eagerly matching the rhythm set by Muraki's hand. The cock inside him began to slide out as he lifted his hips, only to slide in as he fell back. Tsuzuki panted, cheeks flushed, violet eyes glittering as he focused on the dual stimulations inside and out...sweetly intoxicating yet maddening as well. He wanted more. He needed more. His hips jerked and shifted, his legs clamped around Muraki's torso, his arms outstretched as he clung to the sheets for support.

Muraki gazed down at him with hooded eyes, his body dewed with a thin film of sweat, the false eye glowing. "If only you could see yourself. The fire in your eyes...the hunger that is stronger than death..." He stroked the side of Tsuzuki's torso with possessive intent, sliding his palms along the ribcage to the upraised hips now resting on his thighs. "The worst crime you ever did was to end your own life. So much unfulfilled potential..." He lifted Tsuzuki's knees to open him up further, and began to thrust in earnest.

The escalation of erotic sensation made Tsuzuki gasp. This was what he wanted...and yet it was so much more than he could imagine. The building tension in his cock, the jolts of pleasure against his prostate, the hands bracing and supporting him, the muted gasps interspersing his own panting breaths...these myriad sensations tumbled through him, a cascade that flooded his entire being with heat.

He twisted beneath the onslaught, blindly seeking release or escape. Desperation unlocked his tongue. "Please..." His voice was choked, thick with passion. "I can't take much more..."

Muraki leaned forward, tilting Tsuzuki's hips at a higher angle to deepen the thrusts. "Don't... underestimate yourself." His hand returned to stroke Tsuzuki's erection, the rhythm faster, more urgent. "Your beautiful body...was made for this. This should be...your life's purpose."

Tsuzuki shook his head, even as a ripple of excitement went through him.

_A purpose. For as long as he'd existed, he had always wanted a purpose..._

He lifted his hands from the sheets to grab Muraki's shoulders and haul him closer. Solid muscle and bone shifted and flexed beneath his fingers. He flattened his palms against the satin smoothness of the skin, fingers splayed as he sought to absorb the strength and power of Muraki's physique through his fingertips.

Muraki stretched languidly, like a large cat enjoying a caress. He released Tsuzuki's erection, stopped his thrusts, and lowered himself over the lean frame of the other man. With his forearms supporting himself on the mattress, Muraki began to move again, this time a slow rocking of his hips. "We're good together, ne?" He buried his lips in the curve of Tsuzuki's neck, and his fingers tangled in the damp tendrils of his dark hair as it fell against the rumpled sheets. "A match made in heaven...or should that be hell?"

Tsuzuki clenched his teeth in frustration at the change in tempo. His cock ached as it remained trapped between them, dependant on the motion of Muraki's body for stimulation. He didn't have the patience to deal with this teasing; Muraki would try the patience of a saint, let alone a Shinigami. He began to taunt Muraki in ways of his own, clinging to him with each thrust out, relaxing as he slid in...doing his best to test the limits of Muraki's endurance. His nails dug deep scratches from shoulder blade to hip, weaving past the old scars to linger on the smooth curve of his buttocks. His teeth nipped spasmodically at the juncture of neck and shoulder, punishing his tormentor as best he could.

He felt Muraki's lips slant against his skin, a hidden smile he was not meant to see. His sharp teeth sank into Tsuzuki's flesh, a sudden stab of pain that struck through the haze of pleasure. The swirling of the tongue soon followed, replacing pain with pleasure. But it was a chilling reminder of Muraki's intent: he was marking Tsuzuki, as Tsuzuki had marked him--each carrying marks inflicted by the other.

Tsuzuki shivered at the thought. It didn't matter. His body would heal quickly enough. He focused on the slow steady fucking, the friction against his cock and the pleasure that flowed through his veins like thick honey. He pushed away the voice that taunted him that these exquisite sensations were just as transient and fleeting as the pain.

Without warning Muraki withdrew, his breathing reduced to shallow gasps, his erection slick and wet with lube and precome. Tsuzuki's body convulsed like a marionette with broken strings. A whimper of need left his throat. His nails curled deeper, drawing more blood from pale flesh.

"Hush. It's all right. You're doing so well." He manipulated Tsuzuki's quivering limbs, guiding him to his hands and knees. Kneeling behind him, he thrust into him anew.

"Yesss..." Tsuzuki wasn't aware of speaking; he was too relieved that Muraki was still with him. In him. In the unity of their mutual depravity. He lowered his head and groaned as Muraki fucked him in earnest, hard and fast and relentless. He was the one who possessed, drawing out the pleasure to breaking point for them both. All Tsuzuki could do was clutch the sheets to brace himself. His cock remained taut against his abdomen, forced to take vicarious pleasure from the fucking alone.

Muraki gripped his hips and cried out, a harsh guttural sound that seemed to echo in the room.

Tsuzuki gasped at the spasm of pleasure-pain that shot through him. But he couldn't come. He lowered his forehead against the rumpled sheets, still panting from the exertion. He ached and he throbbed...but there was no release to be had.

Muraki lay against his back, cheek resting against damp skin, his breath hot as it gusted against Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Tsuzuki-san," he murmured, "your stamina is truly amazing." Slowly he sat on the mattress, and guided Tsuzuki to rest on his back. He eyed the neglected erection, the moisture forming at its tip, his false eye glowing in his excitement. "You deserve to be worshipped. Let me do this for you." He licked his lips.

"No." Tsuzuki grabbed his hair and held him away. His arm trembled with the effort.

"Why not? Why deny yourself?" Muraki twisted his head. "This is what you need. Look." He encircled the erection with his fingers, and it jerked in his hand. "Your body cries out for this as well."

Tsuzuki inhaled sharply. His body wasn't crying. It was screaming. Muraki's touch was firm and strong, but this time it felt like agony. He was over- sensitised--not near enough to come, but too far gone to accept any stimulation, gentle or rough. "Don't...I can't..." His fingers clenched and tangled in silver strands.

"You can...and you will. To live is to feel. It's time to experience the life that you denied yourself." He began to lower his head.

Tsuzuki pushed at his forehead with the heel of his hand. "No!"

Blinding white light radiated out from his palm. Muraki's gaze became blank, both eyes wide in shock. Then he pitched forward, his head falling forward like a dead weight, the rest of his body slumping in a heap between Tsuzuki's legs.

Tsuzuki stared at his palm, stunned. He hadn't consciously intended to do that. He only used this to assist mortals in making their journey to Meifu, and to ease the discomfort and memory of bloodletting when he made fuda illusions of others. To use it for any other purpose was a misuse of his powers, and a breach of his obligations as a Shinigami.

He looked down at Muraki, silver head resting on his crotch. Disgusted, he roughly pushed him off. But his erection still throbbed, an agony that refused to subside.

How are you going to interrogate an unconscious man?

"You idiot," Tsuzuki muttered to himself. He resorted to rubbing himself against the rucked-up sheets, desperate to ease the terrible ache inside him. Free from the haze of desire, the familiar self-recriminations came all too easily. "You idiot. You stupid idiot..."

You could have at least waited until he'd sucked you off...

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat. His shoulders shook with the spasms it evoked. It went on and on, a crazy cacophony that echoed in the room, the hopeless sound of a man who had no idea what to do. The mattress shook with the referred convulsions, and even Muraki's lax body shook a little in sympathy. It only subsided when he ran out of wind, and was forced to take gulping breaths so he could breathe again. His groin still ached, but the pain had eased slightly.

Should he break the spell and wake Muraki up? He wasn't much use in his unconscious state. Impossible to interrogate him. Impossible to get a blowjob from him...but that was why he'd put Muraki to sleep in the first place.

Even now, his last dream featuring the doctor haunted him: Muraki drawing power as he'd swallowed him deep...the false eye glowing so bright. Tsuzuki trembled in revulsion. The concept of sex as a method of energy transference sounded too bizarre for words, but the dream was too vivid for him to dismiss. Muraki and his false eye...

The eye! This was his chance to see it properly!

Tsuzuki pushed Muraki on his back and straddled him. The false eye was drooped but slightly opened, still glowing a little. Carefully he brushed away the silver bangs and retracted the lid with his fingertips. He leaned forward, so close that he could feel Muraki's breath on his face.

The pupil was constricted to a pinpoint, making it easier to see the surrounding iris. Before there had been several characters, barely distinct and constantly changing. This time there were only four characters, each placed evenly around the rim of grey. Four characters he recognised all too easily.

He blinked and looked again. It couldn't be.

_Definitely your memory is not what it was. Don't you recognise the signature?_

"No!" He shook Muraki by the shoulders, making his head loll from side to side. "Don't play games like this!"

Wisps of silver hair fell over his face, but Muraki slept in blissful ignorance.

Tsuzuki lifted Muraki's head so it was nearer to the lamp. He found the bracket around the eye socket. With his fingertips he lifted the eyeball out a little, taking care not to tear the connecting nerves and blood supply. He looked again, waiting--hoping--for the characters to change. But this time, they remained fixed and legible. There was nothing ornate about them, no anagram to decipher.

Just a name. A simple name.

His name.

"You're lying," he growled, still bending over Muraki. "Even in sleep, you're still lying." He lifted his head and caught sight of the white kitten watching him from the bedside table. "This is another ruse, another trick designed to distract me, isn't it?"

The kitten meowed plaintively.

"It's not going to work." Tsuzuki returned his narrowed gaze to Muraki's supine body. "I'm not the same person I was in Kyoto. I know your methods now." His eyes fell on the scars adorning the side of his torso. "It can't be me."

_Admire your handiwork...the proof of your possession._

Tsuzuki shook his head in furious denial, but the surge of arousal reawakened the hunger. He still wanted Muraki.

How vulnerable he looked...and how appealing.

He wondered how a masculine man could possess such androgynous features. He eyed the graceful line of his exposed throat, the beautiful pale skin marked only by the bites and kisses he'd inflicted earlier, the firm narrow lips, the slanted eyes and pencil-thin curve of his brow, the patrician nose and chin, all framed by feathery silver hair.

Tsuzuki lowered himself over the other man, sighing as his cock slid against solid abdominal muscles. Muraki's skin was cooling and a little sticky with sweat, but his body was still warm to touch. Tsuzuki began to rock against him. Tenderly he nuzzled one of the studs and bit at the earlobe.

But he secretly wanted more. He closed his eyes and imagined bending Muraki to his will, possessing him, mastering him. The mere thought sent a frisson of excitement through his veins...more intense than the thrill he felt when he summoned one of his shikigami.

For as long as he could remember, he'd been drawn to beings with great power. It was how he'd found his shikigami in the first place. He adored them, respected them, envied them. He loved to watch them in action, carrying out his will with unrestrained energy and enthusiasm, unburdened by guilt or shame or conscience. And he knew that the arrangement suited them: for all their willfulness, they rejoiced in any opportunity to use their powers for constructive purpose. To be summoned was to be needed.

Tsuzuki knew it was an incredible honour to have such power at his command. Combined with his own Shinigami powers and fuda magic, he had never wanted for anything more...until tonight. Being with Muraki tonight awakened something he thought he'd put to sleep long ago. It slithered under his skin, awake and alive and eager to feed.

He slid his hands under Muraki's back and neck, holding him tighter.

He could take Muraki right now. Why not? It would be a fitting revenge for what he had done to Hisoka. Muraki wasn't in a position to refuse or distract him. Maybe he would even understand.

There would be no resistance, and no response. Muraki would be as animated as a doll in his current state.

_He's not a doll to be discarded once you're finished with him._

Tsuzuki stopped. He'd said that earlier to Muraki, hadn't he? The voice of his conscience...the conscience he could never live up to.

But it was right. And it applied to Muraki now as much as it did to Hisoka then.

Tsuzuki rolled off Muraki's body to lie against the sheets. There was no challenge in taking possession of a helpless doll. And ultimately it wouldn't solve anything. Bringing himself down to Muraki's level was not the answer.

He covered his face with his hands for several minutes, defeated and disgusted with himself.

_Yami no Matsuei_, Muraki had christened them. Descendants of darkness.

But there was a difference between them. One of them struggled for light. One of them still sought a way to avoid the darkness within...and was making a first-rate disaster of it.

Tsuzuki sighed. Well, at least he was acting true to form. Maintaining his disastrous track record.

He rose from the bed, and got dressed. One of his gloves was missing, but he was too exhausted to care. He grabbed the blankets and did his best to tuck Muraki in. When he had finished, he saw the kitten still watching him from the table.

"Haven't you got anything better to do?"

The kitten blinked at him.

"When he awakens, thank him for the sake."

The kitten yowled and flicked its tail.

Tsuzuki rested his hand on Muraki's forehead, and placed a time limit on the spell. In the morning it would wear off. He considered taking away the memory of the night's events...but decided against it. He had come out of the encounter marginally ahead, and he wanted Muraki to remember it.

The Gushoshin was still dozing by the elevator door. He pocketed the barrier fuda and picked it up in his arms. As his form began to disappear, he didn't turn around. He would be coming back to visit Muraki's apartment soon enough.

The full moon was only seven days away.

* * *

It was the banging at the door that woke Tsuzuki up. With his head buried beneath the blankets, he'd managed to block out most of the sunlight, but even with the pillow over his ears he could still hear the frantic squawking outside his room. 

"Tsuzuki-san! Open up, you lazy idiot! Tsuzuki-san!"

Tsuzuki winced and clutched the pillow even tighter. What had he done wrong now? Did he really want to know?

"Tsuzuki-san! What have you done with my younger brother? Let us in!"

Tsuzuki pushed the blankets off his head and opened bleary eyes. "What?" he muttered. "I haven't done anything with your--"

A soft snore interrupted him. Tsuzuki turned his head. On another pillow, the younger Gushoshin slept, its beak open slightly, the hat covering its eyes.

"Tsuzuki-saaaaaaan!" the voice shrieked outside. "I'm going to break the door down!"

Tsuzuki sat up, his hair sticking up at odd angles on his head. "He's all right. I'm coming to the door." He grabbed the Gushoshin and gave it a shake. "Wake up. Wake up!"

The bird spirit's head remained drooped on its chest.

"Ahh! You're still under the spell."

Tsuzuki cradled it in one arm and placed his free hand over the Gushoshin's forehead. This was how he reversed the sleep spells he cast on others. Hopefully it would reverse Muraki's spell as well. He focused his powers as he sought out the centers of the bird's mind. Much to his relief, the strands of Muraki's spell blew away like stray cobwebs in a brisk breeze.

The Gushoshin opened his eyes. "Tsuzuki-san..."

Tsuzuki smiled down at him. "Are you okay?"

"Muraki!" The bird spirit began flapping its arms. "He's here! He tried to grab me!"

"No, he's not. We're back in Meifu now." Tsuzuki patted his head. "It's okay, Gushoshin."

"But he's here! I saw him! We have to tell everyone!"

"No. You were just having a bad dream." Tsuzuki placed his hand over its eyes, and allowed the white light to envelope its face. "Don't worry about it anymore."

The bird spirit's eyes became glazed as Tsuzuki blocked out the memory of their encounter with Muraki. A few seconds, and it was done.

Tsuzuki removed his hand. "Gushoshin?" He studied its face closely. "Are you awake now?"

The bird blinked up at him. "Tsuzuki-san...where am I?"

The door opened with a crash of splintering wood. The other Gushoshin swooped inside with the speed of an attacking eagle, followed by Watari, 003, and an almost indifferent-looking Hisoka.

"Where's my brother!" the Gushoshin squawked. "Tsuzuki-san, if you've harmed a single feather on my brother's head, I'm going to--"

"Tsuzuki!" Watari waved, a big grin on his face, as if breaking down a door was a perfectly normal way of entering private premises. "How are you feeling? We thought we'd drop by--"

"Especially since it's 11 a.m. and you still haven't shown up for work," Hisoka muttered.

The bird spirit goggled in horror. "Brother! What has Tsuzuki-san done to you? What has he..." He slapped his hands over his eyes. "Nooooo! Oh, brother, how could you do? And with this idiot, of all people?"

"Brother..." The younger Gushoshin blinked. "Where am I? What's going on?" He let out a loud burp.

"He smells of sake! You got him drunk, didn't you? I thought so. It was the only way you could have your evil way with him!" He flew up to Tsuzuki and began hitting his head with his little feathered fists. "Let go of him now, you pervert!"

"Arrgh! What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?" Tsuzuki let go of the other bird spirit to shield himself from the blows. "We didn't do anything! How could you think... Hisoka! Watari! You believe me, don't you?"

"Well," Watari scratched his head and stroked his chin. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this...ahhh...situation." He looked hopefully at his owl. "Any ideas, 003?"

003 nuzzled his hair and hooted sweetly in reply.

Hisoka shoved his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and looked away. "You should wear pyjamas to bed like normal people."

Tsuzuki looked down at himself, still fending off the Gushoshin's blows. He was topless...and there was the possibility that he was nude beneath the sheets. He remembered scrubbing himself in the shower after his night with Muraki, trying to wash away the memory of what they'd done together...

Exhausted, he'd left his clothes on the bathroom floor and fallen into bed stark naked. Damn.

Tsuzuki grabbed his pillow and began hitting the Gushoshin in retaliation. "It's not what you think! How can you imagine me taking advantage of your brother? Look at him! He's a bird!"

"Are you insulting my brother now? Why, you..." He began thumping his entire body on Tsuzuki's head. "Apologise! Apologise now!"

"Owww! I haven't...I haven't done anything! Dammit, Gushoshin, if you'd only listen--"

"I know what you're trying to do. You want to compromise my brother because of the library ban! You want to blackmail us!"

Hisoka shook his head and sighed. "We should go back to work. Chief Konoe is going to be asking about our whereabouts if we're away too long."

"Wait!" Watari cried, pointing at the younger Gushoshin. "Look, Gushoshin Elder. Tsuzuki may look disreputable, but your brother is still dressed. Only his hat is removed. We arrived in the nick of time! Your brother's reputation is still unsullied."

Everyone looked. The younger bird spirit, dressed in its smock, stared back at them all. "Where am I?" he asked again.

The elder one hugged him, sobbing. "It's all right, brother. You're safe now. We don't hold you responsible."

"Responsible for what?" the younger bird asked, bewildered.

"I'm telling you nothing happened!" Tsuzuki pulled at his hair in frustration.

"Only because we thwarted your twisted plans!" the elder bird squawked back. He carried off his confused brother out of the apartment.

Tsuzuki buried his face in his hands. So now they all thought he had a bestiality kink. What was the point in arguing? He could hardly tell them the truth.

"Don't worry, Tsuzuki. I understand. These things can't be helped." Watari winked at him. "Sometimes I look at 003 and I feel so happy that I want to-- "

Tsuzuki glared at him. "This isn't funny, Watari. "

Watari laughed and slapped his shoulder. "So you enjoyed your afternoon in Nagasaki a little too much, huh?"

Tsuzuki flushed. "Not exactly." He looked at his watch. "Hisoka is right. We all better get back to the Shoukanka before Chief Konoe has a temper tantrum."

"Bring along the kasutera and mizuyokan for lunch. I'm sure the sweets will sweeten his temper as well."

"Kasutera? Mizuyokan?"

"The cakes I asked you to buy, remember?"

Tsuzuki groaned. He'd left them behind in Muraki's apartment. "Forgive me, Watari. I don't have them with me."

"You don't?" Watari's cheerful face fell. "Where are they? Did you lose them?"

"No. Don't worry, I'll get them for you tomorrow."

"But I gave you the money to buy them! I was looking forward to eating them!" For a moment, Watari looked as if he were about to cry. "It was going to be the highlight of my day!"

He squeezed Watari's shoulder in reassurance. "They can still be the highlight of your day. Tomorrow."

Watari nodded unhappily. "Okay, kasutera and mizuyokan tomorrow. You promise?"

"I promise." Tsuzuki looked past his shoulder to Hisoka. The green eyes were cool, with an unreadable expression in their depths.

Hisoka sensed something. Maybe it was only a wisp of a thought, but Tsuzuki had the uneasy feeling that Hisoka knew.

Tsuzuki smiled brightly at them both. "Give me time to change. I'll meet you in the Shoukanka in a few minutes, okay?"

Hisoka shrugged, his mask of studied indifference in place. "Fine. See you then."


	8. Secrets and shadows

7/5/04 - minor correction made (003 is 'she'.) 

xxxxx

Muraki was being suffocated by fluff. It was in his nostrils, against his lips. Much as he liked soft textures--one of his more decadent coats had a beautiful fur collar that tickled his neck and jaw--this was intolerable. He couldn't breathe. It was choking him.

He grabbed it, and it yowled in protest. Little claws scratched the back of his hand, followed by small needle-sharp teeth.

"Mmm..." He opened his good eye to find his fingers curled around the neck of the white kitten. "Forgive me." Idly he stroked the feline, scratching the thick fur at its nape, then lingering along the arched spine to the tail.

It purred, appeased by his caress.

"It's nice to know that there's someone who appreciates my attentions. Unfortunately, Tsuzuki-san doesn't share your feelings."

The cat looked at him, eyes wide, as if listening to every word.

Muraki sat up and winced at the sudden dizziness. He bent his head forward until it passed. It felt like a hangover, something he hadn't experienced since his early uni days. He had trained himself to withstand near-lethal doses of toxins--including alcohol--without suffering any effects whatsoever.

Was the dizziness the after-effects of Tsuzuki's spell?

He frowned. Odd. He hadn't seen it coming. And Tsuzuki was usually so easy to predict...

"He's improving, ne? I suppose I should be pleased. We will see his true power soon."

The cat blinked its large grey eyes.

"I only hope he didn't erase any of my memories. It would be most unsportsmanlike of him."

The kitten shook its head.

"And I hope he wouldn't stoop so low as to take advantage of an unconscious person." His eyes narrowed at the idea. "May I?"

The kitten climbed into Muraki's lap and let him place his fingertips over its head.

Muraki shut his eyes and remained perfectly still for several seconds. When he was finished, he opened his eyes and scratched the kitten's ears. His lips twisted in a wry smile.

"Tsuzuki-san..." he murmured. "How incredibly presumptuous of you." He looked down at the feline. "I think a lesson may be in order, ne?"

The kitten purred loudly in agreement.

"We must work on that later." Muraki pulled the blankets aside and stood up, marvelling at how Tsuzuki had actually bothered to cover him up. "Poor Tsuzuki-san. Still a good person at heart."

He shrugged into his robe, and went to the kitchen to switch on the percolator. The kitten followed behind him. Much as he preferred the taste of tea, it was coffee that sustained him during the long shifts he worked as part of his surgical training. Now he was an addict, with no particular desire to give up the habit.

The three boxes of sweets were in the fridge where he'd left them. Muraki wrinkled his nose in distaste, but took one of them out anyway. He didn't have much of a sweet tooth--most cakes and candies lacked the complexity of flavour to sustain his interest--but he needed to eat. With two more boxes left, Tsuzuki wouldn't notice if a couple of cakes were missing, would he?

It was when he'd settled on the lounge with his coffee and the box when he noticed something was wrong. The brightly coloured words on the box were blurred and indistinct, a double image that made him dizzy again.

"So he tampered with it, did he?" He lifted his head tried to readjust his false eye with his fingertips. "I should be grateful he didn't rip it out as he promised. The replacement parts are in short supply." After a few seconds, he was finished. "Now that is much better."

He took a sip of coffee, savouring the bitter black brew. He eyed the sweets, and settled for a delicate namagashi shaped like a quail. He sniffed it and took a small bite. The sugary sweetness on his tongue made him wince. Stoically he chewed and swallowed it, then gulped down the remaining piece. A mouthful of coffee helped to wash the taste away.

"How can he even eat one, let alone three boxes of them? His metabolism must be exceptional to deal with such a high carbohydrate load. Perhaps he has genes that make him resistant to diabetes. If only I could get tissue samples..."

The kitten yowled at him as it prowled around his legs, long tail lashing in protest.

Muraki shrugged. "Old habits die hard. Forgive me. I have a new purpose now, ne?" For a brief moment he thought of Ukyou, but her face was a dim memory. There was no point in thinking about her. Regret was pointless. He couldn't help her any more. He had failed her, like he had failed the patients he had tried to save in his former life.

And it didn't matter.

His old life had been incinerated along with the Shion University laboratory. He was reborn like the phoenix, purified by black flame and white light. He was a new person now, with a new purpose.

But thankfully some things remained the same, such as his nicotine habit. And his obsessive desire for Tsuzuki.

He lit up a cigarette, and watched the sun rise over the city. He thought of Tsuzuki and the things they had done last night. That made him smile. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his neck, a languorous motion that stretched the skin across his back. The cuts from Tsuzuki's nails itched, but it blossomed into pain as he pulled at them with his movements.

"He's so cute, ne? Like a kitten testing its claws for the first time." He sighed and took another drag from his cigarette. "These sweets are wasted on me. Would you like...?"

It was too late. The kitten looked up at Muraki's voice, icing sugar clinging to its nose and whiskers. It was already seated in the centre of the sweet box, and was greedily munching on the remaining namagashi.

"Hmm. That is most rude of you. You should have at least asked Tsuzuki-san-- "

The kitten meowed at him.

"I only took one. You have eaten most of the box. Tsuzuki-san is going to be most displeased." Muraki mused on the possible consequences of dealing with an angry Tsuzuki. "So, would you like more?"

An enthusiastic meow was his answer.

xxxxx

In his office, Tatsumi was scowling at the latest letter from the Accounts Department when he heard the knock at his door. "Who is it?" he snapped.

Hisoka shuffled in, shoulders hunched. "Excuse me, Tatsumi-san. I wanted to speak with you for a moment."

Tatsumi smiled, his bad mood forgotten. "Come in, Kurosaki-kun. Please take a seat."

Hisoka sat down. "Is the Shoukanka short of funds for this month as well?"

Tatsumi threw the letter on his desk. "It's those idiots in accounting! They have no idea of the expenses involved in running this bureau. Between Watari's crazy inventions, Chief Konoe's rampant souvenir collecting, and the destructive power of Tsuzuki and Terazuma, we can barely keep up with the insurance bill, let alone the interest repayments on the reconstruction of the library and main office!" Tatsumi took a deep breath in and out, fighting for composure. "Their current level of funding is an insult to our department. I will write a letter to the person in charge, make my feelings on this matter known, and remind them of what happened to the last accountant who defied me!" His glasses gleamed as he pushed them up his nose.

Hisoka blinked, not quite sure what to say. When he began working at the Shoukanka, he was fascinated by Tatsumi's zeal with the accounts. He secretly admired the secretary's dedicated work ethic, but the man's black moods were truly scary to watch. No wonder all the other Shinigami cowered in fear of him. Fortunately, he'd never been on the receiving end of Tatsumi's verbal tongue-lashing yet.

Tatsumi noticed his silence, and his lips quirked. "How did you know that we were in the red for this month?"

"Well, I..." Hisoka blushed bright red, suddenly aware that he'd been caught mind-reading. "From the look on your face, I guessed that might be the problem. You worry about them all the time."

"Someone has to! Someone must have a sense of financial responsibility in this place! Where do they all think they are? Heaven?" He snorted in disgust. "Even in the afterlife, money doesn't grow on trees."

Hisoka fidgeted in his seat. Much as he wanted to change the subject, he didn't want to appear rude.

With Tsuzuki, he felt no such inhibitions--he could shout and rant until he was red in the face. Sometimes it was the only way to make his partner see sense, especially when Tsuzuki was making a fool of himself with the ridiculous puppy-dog begging act. It irritated him so much...and yet it was the reason he could act more freely with Tsuzuki than anyone else in Meifu. After all, there was no need to impress a man who routinely sank to such low standards of behaviour in public.

But Tatsumi was different. Here was a man of great intelligence, dignity and self-restraint. Here was a person Hisoka regarded as a role model. Here was a man worth impressing.

"It must be a difficult situation, but you wouldn't have been promoted to secretary if Chief Konoe and EnMaDaiOh-sama didn't believe in you. You must do your best, Tatsumi-san."

Tatsumi fixed him with his piercing blue eyes. "This is true, Kurosaki- kun." He smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you for reminding me."

Hisoka lowered his gaze. "You're welcome."

"So you found Tsuzuki and Gushoshin Younger?"

"Yes. They were both suffering from hangovers," Hisoka said, his brow puckered in disapproval. "Gushoshin Elder thought Tsuzuki was taking advantage of his brother. There was much shouting."

Tatsumi did his best to keep a straight face. "It's hard to believe he's over ninety, but he's always been impulsive like this. I'm sure he's already regretting his overindulgence."

"There's more to it than that."

Tatsumi arched a brow. "Is there?"

"I think you should talk to him, Tatsumi-san. He's been acting strangely these past few days. He's so preoccupied and distracted."

"True, it doesn't take much to distract a glutton like Tsuzuki. Wave a freshly baked cinnamon bun in front of him, and he will act like a starving- -"

"No!" Hisoka looked up, green eyes darkening with frustration. "This is different. I can feel it...or maybe I should say I can't feel it." He raked one hand through his overlong fringe. "I...I can't sense Tsuzuki's emotions as clearly as I used to. They're normally intense and bright and overwhelming, like looking at sunlight after being in the dark. There was once a time I couldn't bear his touch, because I couldn't handle all his emotions bombarding me. But now..." He swallowed and bent his head. "I know he has a right to his privacy, but must he shield everything from me?"

"Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi said gently. "You mustn't take it so personally. Tsuzuki only wants to protect you--"

"Stop it!" Hisoka snapped, fingers clenching into fists in his lap. Kindness from the cool-headed Tatsumi was the final straw. "Stop it. Stop being so...so nice to me! Stop treating me like a child!"

"Very well, then." Tatsumi sat back in his seat, and carefully pushed his glasses up his nose. "How would you like me to treat you?"

"I'm tired of being treated like a halfwit who needs to be humoured and protected for my own good. Tsuzuki does it all the time, Watari too. But you..." Hisoka stopped, horrified with himself.

Tatsumi tilted his head to one side. He didn't seem angry. On the contrary, he seemed intrigued. "I...?" he prompted.

"You believed in me," Hisoka said simply. "You believed in me when I had doubts about my ability to help Tsuzuki. And because you believed, I...I began to believe in myself." He looked up, green eyes flashing. "Even if it was an act, please do me the courtesy of treating me like an adult."

"It was never an act, Kurosaki-kun." Tatsumi's voice was as cool as his ice- blue eyes. "Don't you think you would have seen through any pretence with your empathic powers? Shadows conceal, but they do not disguise."

Hisoka reddened again, feeling very foolish. Even when he was being kind, Tatsumi knew how to put a person in their place. "You're right. I apologise for my harsh words earlier, Tatsumi-san."

"There's no need." Tatsumi smiled, his expression no longer so forbidding. "You are anxious about Tsuzuki-san, and you worry that you can no longer sense his emotions. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Then you must remember that as your partner, Tsuzuki worries about you in the same way. He doesn't want his emotions to overwhelm your psyche, so I offered to help him with a few shadow techniques."

"So you...you taught him how to shield his feelings from me!"

If Tatsumi was ruffled by the accusation, he didn't show it. "You are not the only one who finds Tsuzuki's emotional aura disturbing. My empathic abilities are nowhere near as strong as yours, but even I find Tsuzuki's tumultuous feelings a burden to handle. The human brain can only cope with so many emotions before it will retreat into itself to escape the trauma. This is what happened to you recently, remember?"

Hisoka nodded, still glum. He still felt ashamed for his weakness, but he had all but drowned in the suffocating waves of black depression. And he thought he knew what depression felt like... "So he's doing this to protect us. The idiot."

"Partly. He has his own reasons too. Everyone is entitled to the solitude and privacy of their own thoughts. No one wants to have their emotions under constant surveillance."

"I'm not trying to spy on him! I only want to make sure that he's all right." Hisoka blinked, upset and confused. Why was Tatsumi saying such things? "Do you doubt my ability to be a good partner for Tsuzuki? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"No, it isn't." Tatsumi's eyes flashed, the only outward sign of his displeasure. "Please don't put words in my mouth, Kurosaki-kun."

"Do you think I want to be an empath? Do you think I want to have other people's emotions drowning out my own? If there was a method for me to control my empathic range, I would jump at the chance to learn it!"

"Would you?" Tatsumi asked, his tone flat. He sounded as if he didn't care about Hisoka's answer either way.

"Yes!"

Tatsumi regarded him in silence for a long time. Hisoka did his best to withstand the penetrating blue gaze, but he couldn't help the flush staining his cheeks. What was he looking for? Hisoka couldn't sense any emotion emanating from him. Was he using his shadow magic to hide his feelings?

"How would you like to learn some kagetsu mind techniques, Kurosaki-kun?"

Hisoka gaped at him. "Me...?"

"There are techniques one can use to conceal magical abilities. If your empathic powers are proving troublesome in a particular situation, you can employ these techniques as a temporary measure. It can also be useful when you wish to conceal your power against an unsuspecting enemy."

"Is...is it difficult to learn?"

"It takes dedication and regular practice. I can teach you during our off- duty hours, but it will mean less free time for you. I know that the workload can be exhausting for you--"

"I'll do it! I want to learn, Tatsumi-san." To learn kagetsu magic was an opportunity too precious to pass up. Tatsumi would be a strict teacher, but Hisoka didn't care. To have even a fraction of the power Tatsumi wielded over the shadows...it would be a dream come true.

He wouldn't be dependant on Tsuzuki or the other Shinigami to rescue and protect him. At last, he'd be able to look after himself...and his partner.

"Very well." Tatsumi inclined his head, his expression strangely serene. "When would you like to start?"

xxxxx

Tsuzuki had problems of his own to deal with.

Chief Konoe was on the warpath about late reports and lazy-good-for-nothing workers who drank so much they were too hungover to work the next day. To delay the inevitable dressing-down, Tsuzuki sought refuge in the one place most Shinigami feared to tread: Watari's laboratory. The semi-regular explosions and botched experiments kept all but the reckless and foolish away.

Tsuzuki's lips twisted in a wry smile as he perched on a stool, elbows propped on a bench spilling over with papers. Reckless and foolish--that described him to a T.

"Watari, is it possible for a demon's contract to be renegotiated with the contract holder?"

Watari frowned as he stirred a beaker filled with bubbling liquid. "I've never heard of such a thing. Demons always have a specific purpose in mind, such as one's soul or something of great personal value. Why would they suddenly change their mind?"

"Maybe..." He cleared his throat as he recalled Muraki's mouth against his erection, his lips and tongue lashing him with frenzied strokes. "Maybe...if the contract holder was particularly persuasive..."

"I can't see it happening, Tsuzuki. Demons are masters of trickery. No human, no matter how diabolical, can compete with them."

Tsuzuki mused on this. Watari had a good point. The demon form transcended the physical. Muraki's seductive techniques would be wasted on such a creature.

"Do you think it is possible for someone to make a contract without realising it?"

"Huh?" Watari stared at him. "You mean 'enter into', don't you? Demons are the ones who draw up the contract. Humans merely agree and sign them."

"Sorry! I'm still waking up." Tsuzuki laughed sheepishly. "That's exactly what I meant."

"Well...people tend to have fuzzy recollections of the contract signing. Remember the Demon's Trill case? Otonashi Tatsuya's diary entry described his meeting with Saaga as a dream. So I guess it might be possible." Watari tapped a finger against his lips. "The contract holder might agree as part of the dream, never realising it was the real thing."

The contents of the beaker overflowed, and liquid fell on the wire gauze with a loud hiss.

"Oops!" He quickly turned the Bunsen burner off and mopped up the mess with a dirty rag. "You're asking a lot of questions about demons lately, Tsuzuki. Are you working on a new case?"

"I'm reviewing some old cases," Tsuzuki said. "Second Block has been very quiet lately, so I'm keeping myself busy with some research. Have you worked out the meaning of the anagram?"

"Ahhh...I haven't looked at it yet. You told me it wasn't urgent."

"No, not at all," Tsuzuki reassured him. "Do you think you could do something else for me? I want you to check with the Gushoshin to find the name of a demon that takes on the form of a small white cat."

Watari's brown eyes lit up with interest. "So this is a case! I knew it!"

"No, no! It's just...more dreams. But if it does lead to something, you'll be the first to know."

"What type of dream was it? Was it was a horrible one or a pleasant one?"

"It depends on your point of view," Tsuzuki said cryptically. He stretched and yawned. "Well, if you do translate it, let me know. I'm counting on you."

"Okay, but you should think about it too. Your dreams are generated by your subconscious. This anagram of yours--maybe the cat too!--could be a message from your subconscious mind to your conscious mind. So chances are, you already know what it all means. You just have to figure it out!"

Tsuzuki sighed. "I wish my subconscious and conscious minds talked more openly to each other."

Watari shrugged and smiled. "The human mind works in mysterious ways, Tsuzuki."

From the window, he could see sakura still falling gently from the trees in the afternoon sun, but Tsuzuki was too preoccupied to notice their beauty.

If the human mind was mysterious, then the demon mind was impenetrable.

His encounter with Muraki had resolved nothing; it only raised more perplexing questions than it answered. Why would such an ageless and powerful entity want to form a 'covenant' with a human? Demons were creatures of energy, free of the impediments and restrictions imposed by a physical form. To a demon, humans were merely pawns to be tricked and cast aside.

No doubt the demon was lying about an alliance, cleverly appealing to Muraki's inflated egotism. Whether Muraki realised it or not, he was way out of his depth.

Tsuzuki could see the poetic justice: the serial killer who had used and cast aside his victims in such a callous manner was now being manipulated in turn by a higher power. But the knowledge brought no joy or satisfaction. Even as a pawn, Muraki was capable of wreaking havoc and destruction.

And last night, he had wreaked an intimate kind of havoc over Tsuzuki's senses.

In the cold light of day, Tsuzuki was appalled by his actions. But neither could he deny the fascination Muraki held over him. They were both sensualists by nature, drawn together by mutual lust.

Tsuzuki had clung to the desperate hope that a one-night stand might cure him of these shameful feelings. This was a physical appetite, nothing more. Once he scratched the itch, he would be free of this obsession. Wasn't that how it was supposed to work?

But maybe that was the problem.

Muraki had done much more than scratch. He had been slow and thorough and demanding, right up to the moment Tsuzuki rendered him unconscious. It should have been more than enough to quench the desire once and for all...but it only left him keenly anticipating their next encounter.

He still wanted Muraki. One night was not enough.

Tsuzuki touched the side of his throat. The skin was smooth and unmarked, but he still carried the memory of Muraki sinking his teeth over that spot. Even now, the pleasure-pain evoked by his touch still thrummed along his nerve endings, an invisible brand that marked him as surely as the curse marks that once lined Hisoka's body.

What was he going to do?

"You mustn't feel ashamed, Tsuzuki."

Tsuzuki jerked up, overbalanced, and almost tumbled off the stool. "Wha...What did you say?"

Watari peered closely at his face. "I was joking, you know. But if I'd known I was so close to the mark, I wouldn't have said such things. I know it's not a laughing matter for you."

Tsuzuki felt the heat rise in his cheeks. "Watari, what are you talking about?"

Watari's brown eyes were warm with sympathy. "Let me show you something." He cleared a space on the bench, and placed a large sketchbook on the table. "Take a look."

Tsuzuki opened it. On the first page was a drawing of an eagle in full flight, talons extended as it prepared to dive for its prey.

"This is stunning! I never knew you could draw so well!"

"I take time to draw the things I love." Watari winked at him. "Keep looking."

The entire book was filled with birds, all exquisitely drawn in great detail. There were flamingos standing in a row, pelicans fighting over fish, puffins with their absurd round beaks. Tsuzuki was particularly taken by a drawing of two amorous parakeets kissing each other.

"Actually, they're regurgitating food into each other's mouths. It's a form of affectionate behaviour much like kissing!"

"How...cute." Tsuzuki quickly turned the page.

The next one was only a rough sketch outline. "Is this your latest one? What is it?"

"It's an old one, but it's my favourite. Look closely."

Tsuzuki bent to look at it. On closer inspection, he could make out a faint drawing. It looked like it had been drawn then erased. It bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain owl...

"It's 003!" Tsuzuki looked at the bird perched on Watari's shoulder, and pointed at the page. "This is you!"

The owl puffed out its chest and hooted loudly.

"So that's where she came from! You drew her and brought her to life!"

Watari nodded, his blond hair flying about him. "Exactly. I had two trial versions that didn't work so well. The first one had a large head, so she kept falling over. The second one had wings that were too tiny for flying. But with 003, everything was in perfect proportion." He and the owl exchanged fond looks. "And I can do one for you, Tsuzuki! Just tell me which of the birds you want, and I'll bring it to life. I have ten more sketchbooks you can look at." He waved at a big pile of books in danger of falling from a shelf on the nearby wall. "Or if there's another type of bird you're after, I'll do my best to draw it."

Tsuzuki blinked, a little unnerved by Watari's excitement. "That's nice of you, but there's no need to go to so much trouble--"

"Tsuzuki, listen to me. There's no need to be in denial about your feelings. There's even a term for this condition: ornithophilia. I have a milder form of it, although I draw the line at having 003 in bed."

"Watari!" This time, Tsuzuki fell off the stool and hit the floor with a loud thump. "It's not like that! I don't feel that way about Gushoshin Younger! Or Elder." He scrambled to his feet. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"But we saw the two of you together--"

"It wasn't like that! You have such a filthy mind!"

"Why only me? That's what we all thought when we visited you this morning."

"You mean when you broke my door down? You're going to be paying for that, you know."

Watari turned around with great dignity, his blond hair swirling around him. "And who owes whom for the afternoon tea yesterday?"

Tsuzuki resisted the tempting urge to yank Watari's hair in retaliation. "A good friend wouldn't bring up past favours at a time like this!"

The laboratory door opened, and the elder Gushoshin floated inside, stony- faced and grim. "The Chief wants to see you now, Tsuzuki."

Discovered at last, Tsuzuki had little choice but to obey. "Please work on the things I've told you," he said to Watari. "It's very important to me. Especially the anagram I gave you. Don't forget!"

"Okay, okay. I have it here." Watari looked at the piles of papers on his bench. "Somewhere."

"Watari..."

"I'll find it! Just remember the kasutera and mizuyokan."

xxxxx

It could have been worse. Konoe ranted until he was red in the face. Tatsumi soothed him with cups of sweet tea. Hisoka was a solemn presence at his right shoulder, chestnut-brown head bowed as if he were personally responsible for Tsuzuki's misdeeds.

Tsuzuki observed them in silence, while taking care to look suitably chastened. He knew they all cared, each in his own unique way. He was fortunate to have them. They were his surrogate family.

So he apologised profusely as usual, and promised he would never place the Gushoshin in such a compromising situation again.

"You better mean it, Tsuzuki," Konoe warned. "The Gushoshin are on the warpath! They've threatened to go on strike if either their safety or reputation is endangered by your conduct."

"And they're demanding a pay rise," Tatsumi muttered darkly.

Tsuzuki and Hisoka exchanged nervous glances. The bird spirits were serious this time.

"I swear it won't happen again, Chief." And it wouldn't. He would visit Muraki by himself from now on. Technically, Shinigami were supposed to work in pairs. But he'd been partnerless on many occasions during his seventy- odd years in the Shoukanka. He knew from experience which rules could be bent when required.

"You must ensure you set a good example to Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi advised him. "What must he think of a senior partner who acts so irresponsibly all the time?"

Hisoka shrugged. "I'm used to it now," he replied. "If I want guidance on proper behaviour, I'll make sure to consult someone more mature than this person."

Tatsumi's lips twitched at the corners. "A wise decision."

Hisoka flushed at the compliment and lowered his gaze.

The exchange between them wasn't lost on Tsuzuki. He eyed Hisoka curiously. "I may not look it, but I'm much older than Tatsumi. I'm well over ninety."

"But you don't act your age, idiot!"

"Oh? So you want me to act like a decrepit old man?"

"Tsuzuki!" Chief Konoe shouted. "Show more respect when you speak of your elders!"

"You should be telling that to him, not me!"

"Why, you good-for-nothing lazy excuse for a Shinigami--"

Half an hour later, Tsuzuki was extremely sorry for his rash remarks. It took three more cups of tea and the promise of kasutera for tomorrow's morning tea to soothe Chief Konoe's temper enough to end the meeting.

"So how are you going along with the paperwork? Do you need any help?" he asked Hisoka as they entered their office.

"I have most of the accounts from last month completed," Hisoka told him as he sat down. "It's all under control."

"That's good." Tsuzuki took a seat at his desk. "Hisoka, about what you said earlier..."

Hisoka looked up. "What?"

"I know I've been preoccupied lately, and I'm probably not the best example of a good employee, but I want you to know that you can ask me for help. There's no need to work so hard all the time. You don't have anything to prove to us."

A fleeting annoyance flitted across Hisoka's face. "I want my work to be the best it can be, Tsuzuki."

"Of course! And it already is. Chief Konoe has praised you before for your dedication and bravery. But..." Tsuzuki looked at him earnestly, "just remember that work isn't everything. There's more to the afterlife than work. You should take time out to enjoy yourself as well. If you don't, you'll be in danger of becoming an obsessive bureaucrat like Tatsumi."

"Tatsumi-san is a good worker. It would be an honour to be mentioned in the same breath as him."

Tsuzuki frowned. This was worse than he'd originally thought. "Why don't we go out to dinner tonight?" he offered. "We haven't had time to ourselves lately."

"Sure. But I can't stay out too long." Hisoka looked away. "I have...other plans."

"Oh." It wasn't any of his business, but... "What plans?"

Hisoka shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Tatsumi-san has offered to teach me some techniques to control my empathic powers." He looked at Tsuzuki, a question in his eyes. "I...I thought it might be useful for me as a Shinigami."

"I see."

So that was it. Tatsumi had decided to take on a new pupil. Suddenly the conference room exchange made perfect sense.

Tsuzuki flashed a bright smile. "That's a great idea, Hisoka! Kagetsu is an excellent technique for manipulation and concealment. And Tatsumi is the best person to learn from. It's his specialty."

"You...you don't mind, do you?"

"Don't be silly. Why would I mind? You want to learn, right?"

Hisoka nodded.

"Then you mustn't pass up this chance! Hey, why don't we have dinner early? That way we can make sure that you aren't late for your lesson. Tatsumi is a real stickler for punctuality."

Hisoka was silent for a moment. "Thank you, Tsuzuki." His green eyes were filled with a wistful sadness. "Thank you."

Tsuzuki smiled and turned away. So much for the shadows hiding his true emotions this time. But then, he'd never been that good at kagetsu mind techniques. "You're welcome, Hisoka. Any time."


	9. A more than warm welcome

Thanks to everyone who has commented. It's so nice to know people are still reading.

26/7/04: small changes made to first scene here.

* * *

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. 

And Tsuzuki wasn't that surprised. Hisoka respected people who were serious and disciplined in their approach to life. He constantly sought to improve himself, whether it was by reading books in the library or testing his physical prowess with the bow or katana. His entire life was devoted to physical and mental self-improvement.

Once Tsuzuki thought this was Hisoka's way of compensating for his limited physical stature. As friend and partner, he had done his best to balance Hisoka's perspective, often reminding him of the need to relax and unwind. But Hisoka had never really taken his advice. He would accompany Tsuzuki on his regular outings to patisseries and tea rooms with resigned patience, like a parent indulging a spoilt child. Occasionally he might be surprised into showing a flicker of pleasure or enthusiasm, but it would be quickly snuffed out by his innate self-consciousness.

Tsuzuki had concluded that Hisoka's behaviour was an ingrained part of his personality. Like Tatsumi, he was more comfortable with the ascetic than the sensual.

So maybe this was for the best.

But it didn't lessen the awkwardness as he escorted Hisoka to Tatsumi's apartment. Tsuzuki knew Hisoka well enough to tell the difference between a companionable and a strained silence.

"Well, here it is! We're just on time, so Tatsumi has no reason to be impatient with you."

Hisoka remained motionless beside him, his gaze on his sneakers.

"Aren't you going to knock? He won't open the door otherwise."

"Tsuzuki..." Hisoka hunched his shoulders, making himself appear shorter than his full height. "Are you sure you're all right with this?"

"Of course I am." Tsuzuki rapped his knuckles against the door. "This is a great honour. Tatsumi doesn't offer to teach kagetsu to anyone, you know. You'd be crazy to pass it up."

"I know that." Hisoka shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. "It's just that..." he shrugged, doing his best to be nonchalant, "I know you and Tatsumi are close." He looked up, challenging Tsuzuki to deny it.

But Tsuzuki could see past the defensiveness. He knew Hisoka was worried about him...and maybe even a little jealous. He ruffled Hisoka's hair. "We're just friends. Don't worry about it, okay?"

Frustration clouded Hisoka's gaze for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened before he could say anything.

Tatsumi greeted them, still dressed in his tan business suit. "Good evening, Kurosaki-kun, Tsuzuki-san." Apart from a slight lift of his eyebrows, he didn't appear troubled by Tsuzuki's presence.

"Hisoka's here for his first kagetsu lesson as arranged!" Tsuzuki placed his hand on Hisoka's shoulder and urged him to step forward.

"So I see." Tatsumi's impersonal gaze shifted from Tsuzuki to Hisoka, then to Tsuzuki. "It was kind of you to show him the way."

Tsuzuki smiled. "I wanted to warn him in advance about how strict you can be, so he wouldn't be shocked by your tough teaching methods."

"You exaggerate, Tsuzuki-san. Your problem was your limited concentration span."

Tsuzuki chuckled. "Maybe it was. Well, I'm sure Hisoka will pick it up much more quickly." He bent down so that he could look Hisoka in the eye. "Don't be fooled by his act, okay? For all his ranting, his bark is much more worse than his bite."

"I only bite on request," Tatsumi replied, deadpan, "unlike certain other people I know."

Tsuzuki froze. Did Tatsumi know about the events of last night? No doubt he would be disgusted if he did find out. And why bring it up now? Tatsumi had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to his request to investigate Muraki in the first place. Was he having second thoughts?

Tsuzuki didn't know any of the answers, and he didn't want to ask, especially not with Hisoka as bystander. And he wasn't in the mood to explain himself to anyone. He knew what he was doing. He couldn't go back now. As for the judgment of others...he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

So he swallowed his pride, and shame, and said nothing.

Hisoka's troubled gaze shifted from one man to the other.

Tatsumi didn't pursue it further. "Please take off your shoes and enter, Kurosaki-kun. Tsuzuki-san, I expect you to arrive at work tomorrow before midday. Much as you would like to believe otherwise, you are a full-time employee of EnmaCho, not part-time. If you continue to take so much time off, then we will have to review your salary."

They were back on familiar ground again, much to Tsuzuki's relief. "Of course, Tatsumi. I promise to be on time tomorrow and I'll bring cakes and sweets for everyone. Bye Hisoka! Study hard!"

He left them both at the doorway: Tatsumi watching him with his unreadable blue eyes, Hisoka's expressive green gaze bright with concern. He knew they were both worried about him in their own way: Tatsumi was merely more experienced in concealing his concern with impatient orders and angry outbursts. Tsuzuki wished there was something he could say to reassure them, but experience had taught him the futility of offering people false hope.

Never mind. As long as Hisoka was in Tatsumi's custody, he would be safe. That was all that mattered.

And with Hisoka safe, Tsuzuki would have the freedom to focus solely on investigating Muraki and his demonic covenant. Which was what he had wanted in the first place, right?

So he knew he had no reason to be sad or jealous, as he trudged back to the Shoukanka. No reason at all.

* * *

For the rest of the evening, Tsuzuki looked at photographs. For all his penny-pinching ways, Tatsumi knew the benefits of embracing new technology, and digital cameras were considered standard equipment. No more fiddling with messy chemicals in a dark room: viewing photos was as easy as plugging the camera into the correct computer port, then opening up the right software. Even a good-for-nothing-lazy-excuse-for-a-Shinigami could do it. 

So Tsuzuki sat at his desk alone in the dark to view the photos taken by Gushoshin Younger. The vast majority featured Muraki nuzzling his ear, eyes half-closed, lips curved in a wicked smile. Damn. Wincing at the offending images, Tsuzuki jabbed the delete key again and again until his index finger ached.

Only a handful of blurry digital photos featured Muraki's eye in close-up. After whittling down the collection, Tsuzuki zoomed in on the few useful images for more details, but it proved fruitless. The reflected flash from Muraki's glasses combined with his overlong silver hair obscured the false eye from view. Even with the best photo featuring an eerie close-up of both eyes, false and true, all he could see clearly were two concentric circles over the iris, nothing more.

Defeated, Tsuzuki slumped forward with elbows propped on the desk, his chin supported by his hands.

"You were right," he muttered. "I can't see anything."

On the screen, Muraki's slanted eyes seemed to wink at him.

Annoyed, Tsuzuki zoomed in on the false eye until it filled the entire screen with a wall of bright multi-coloured squares. He reached out to touch them with his fingertips, tracing the outline of the pupil.

"I should've gouged it out when I had the chance."

But what would he have done with it? Framed it on his office wall like a hunting trophy?

Tsuzuki suppressed a bitter laugh at the idea. No, he'd have to hide it. Burn it. Bury it.

He couldn't let anyone else see it.

Not that he put it there. He knew he didn't place it there. Nevertheless, its presence on the flesh of a living being was incriminating enough.

Tsuzuki deleted all the photos and shut down the computer. It was almost midnight, and there was little to be gained by magnifying fuzzy photos any further.

So he'd have to visit Muraki again. A shiver passed over him, a mixture of dread and excitement.

Tsuzuki shook his head impatiently as he grabbed his coat.

_Don't think of last night._

He buttoned his trenchcoat with fumbling fingers. He couldn't help remembering how he'd almost ripped them apart in his eagerness to join Muraki on his bed.

_Don't think of that, you idiot!_

Tsuzuki shoved his hands in his pockets, searching for his gloves. He could only find one.

An image of Muraki appeared in his mind, sharp and clear, grinning wickedly as he held the fingertip of one black glove between his teeth.

It was hopeless. How could he not think about it? He wanted Muraki, even as he despised himself for it. It was too urgent, too close to the surface of his mind to suppress any longer. There was no way he could withstand Muraki's sexual mind-games in his current state.

But maybe the white kitten could offer more information. If it were a demon, maybe he could provoke it into revealing its true form. Demons were vain and greedy by nature. Provoking one into attack would require a little effort, but Tsuzuki knew he was a master in annoying others: Terazuma had commented on it several times.

Providing Muraki remained fast asleep, dealing with the kitten wouldn't be too difficult at all.

* * *

He chose to make an unobtrusive appearance under the cover of invisibility. 

All the lights were off. From the doorway, he could see the bedroom was empty, the unoccupied bed neatly made up. There were no shoes in the rack by the elevator doors.

Muraki wasn't in.

Tsuzuki frowned at the empty rack. The realisation should have filled him with relief, but it didn't. Where could he be? Eating out with Norata-san or other friends? Lurking in a darkened alley for his next victim?

Tsuzuki smothered his feelings of disappointment. He was here to examine the kitten. Muraki's absence, for whatever reason, provided the perfect opportunity.

But his sixth sense detected nothing, not even the muted emanations of a normal cat.

Tsuzuki allowed himself to appear in physical form, hoping it would draw the creature out. The lights switched on as the detector responded to his movements. Nothing.

Tsuzuki inspected the kitchen and opened a few cupboards; scanned the shower cubicle and spa tub; even crawled on his hands and knees to peer under the lounge and coffee table. Where was it? It had closely watched his every move last night, a silent witness to everything he and Muraki had done together. So why hide from him now?

Disgruntled, Tsuzuki unbuttoned his trenchcoat and fingered the fuda in his breast pocket. Could Muraki have taken the cat out with him? Surely not. Then again, Muraki was the type of person who did whatever he pleased whenever he pleased, public opinion be damned.

There was only one room he hadn't searched properly, one room he dreaded entering.

The bedroom.

Tsuzuki stood at the doorway, heart pounding. His mere presence here was wrong; it was akin to a murderer returning to savour the details of his crime. The temptation to use an illusion fuda lurked at the back of his mind; however, his revulsion at the memory of Muraki molesting his doppelganger self decided it.

He would do this himself.

He straightened his shoulders and walked through the door.

Heat engulfed him. It invaded his nostrils, and swirled around his limbs until they became heavy and weak. Sweat broke out on his brow and between his shoulder blades. Droplets trickled into his eyes, making them sting.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. His vision was filled with a glowing wall of dancing flames. Thick black smoke wafted around him, its acrid smell suffocating him. Orange sparks flew toward him, seeking to set him alight as well. And now he could feel a palpable presence in the room watching him, circling him. Wanting him.

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki pulled out a barrier fuda, and held it before him using his index and middle finger. "Only a coward hides during battle. If you want to fight, show yourself first!"

"You only had to ask, Tsuzuki-san. Your wish is my command."

Tsuzuki whirled, his trench coat swirling around his legs, the fuda extended to ward off attack.

Muraki stood before him, arms folded, lips curved in a mocking smile. His glasses reflected the flickering red-orange flames, obscuring his eyes from view. He wore a black polo neck top and black jeans beneath his familiar white trench coat. The overwhelming heat didn't affect him in the slightest.

"It's a little warm in here, ne? I hope you don't mind. Please feel free to take off your clothes if the temperature is not to your liking." He grinned merrily. "The more, the better."

"You..." Tsuzuki clenched his hands into fists. If he'd been holding an attack fuda, he would have hurled it simply to wipe the smirk from Muraki's face. "Stop playing these games! Is this supposed to be another showdown? Is this your revenge?"

"Revenge?" Muraki frowned, his brow furrowing at the idea. "Your opinion of me must be very low indeed if you think I bear a grudge for the laboratory fire. You were under attack; hence, you defended yourself. A perfectly reasonable course of action." He tilted his head to study Tsuzuki, unperturbed by the angry glint in his violet eyes. "You aren't guilty about what happened, are you?"

Tsuzuki shook his head decisively. "Not in the slightest."

But inside he was reeling. To have one of his victims reassure him that his actions, however violent and bloody, were perfectly reasonable...it defied logic. And to hear it from Muraki, of all people...

Well, Muraki was insane by definition. To him, violence and blood was all part of a day's work.

"Good. I, for one, regret nothing. With each stab of the knife, you refashioned me anew. As a sculptor moulds clay, so you remoulded my life." He bent down on one knee, his head bowed as if in prayer. "I am yours, Tsuzuki-san."

"Like hell you are." Tsuzuki tried to take a step back, but scorching heat seared his skin through the layers of clothing.

He turned around again. The flames now surrounded him completely on all sides. More flames surged over his head to form a canopy of fire and thick smoke.

There was something eerily familiar about it.

"Touda?" It couldn't be, of course. Touda was his shikigami, and his alone. No one else could summon him. But these flames...

"It's a good likeness, ne?" Muraki rested a forearm on Tsuzuki's shoulder to watch the fiery display. "But what we're experiencing now is merely a fraction of what I endured."

From one side, a glowing fireball hurtled towards them. Tsuzuki swung his arm out to meet it, the crumpled barrier fuda in his hand.

The fireball exploded inches from his hand, repelled by the invisible spirit barrier. A few pieces of the fuda fell away, its magic dissipated by the attack.

Tsuzuki turned to look at Muraki, who was still leaning casually against his shoulder. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"This!"

Another fireball came at them, this time from above. Tsuzuki grabbed a second barrier fuda as reinforcement and held both fuda up to repel the attack. The fireball exploded like the first, sending sparks falling around them.

"Beautiful." Muraki watched in open admiration. "It's like a meteor shower."

"Why are you doing this? Are you after my sympathy?"

"Hardly." Muraki flashed him a sidelong look. "And who says I'm doing anything?"

"Who else can it be, you--"

Another fireball loomed over Muraki's shoulder.

"Move!" Roughly he yanked Muraki behind him to face it head-on. There was no time to launch a coordinated attack. He hurled a barrage of fuda, both attack and barrier, in a single onslaught.

The barrier fuda hit it first. The fireball slowed, but it didn't waver from its original trajectory. With orange flames dancing on its surface, it crackled and roared towards them as though it were a living entity.

Tsuzuki watched, transfixed. Time had slowed down to a crawl. The fireball was too close, too fast and double the size of the previous two. His attack fuda were unproven against such ferocious flames. His shinigami couldn't be summoned at such short notice.

"You must believe to succeed, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki murmured behind him. He squeezed Tsuzuki's shoulder. "I know you can do it. Watch."

The attack fuda transformed into a school of silver fish, then coalesced and expanded into a torrent of water. The fireball ploughed into it with a massive hiss. Steam and water droplets sprayed everywhere, knocking him backwards to the ground.

"Muraki?" Tsuzuki scrambled to his feet, but he couldn't see a thing. Grey fog of smoke and steam obscured his vision. His clothes were dripping wet. "Muraki! Where are you, dammit?"

The wall of flames no longer glowed as brightly. As the steam lifted, Tsuzuki saw the floor was covered in wet puddles and gasping, flapping fish.

Next to him, a sodden Muraki squatted on his haunches to examine one of them. "Mullet?" He laughed and ran a careless hand through drenched silver hair. "So few of my previous dates went to the trouble of bringing, let alone cooking, their own food. Such a shame your tastes are cheap. Do you think you could bring fugu next time?"

Tsuzuki glared at him. "Call it off." He pulled out a handful of attack fuda. "Or I'll rip this entire illusion to shreds, and destroy your apartment building in the process."

"I would if I could." Muraki seemed almost apologetic as he straightened up. "Unfortunately, that decision is not mine to make."

Tsuzuki swore under his breath. "What's the advantage in having a covenant- alliance if you can't make any decisions for yourself?"

Muraki's gaze narrowed. "You misinterpret my words, Tsuzuki-san. My will is still my own."

But Tsuzuki knew he'd struck a nerve. The sudden chill in Muraki's manner proved it. "Really? So why are you stuck here with me? Don't tell me that you wanted to be barbecued by flames one minute and steamed alive the next?"

"I want to be with you: for better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; till death..." Muraki suddenly grinned, his good humour restored. "But why must death be an impediment? We shouldn't let such trifling differences mar our future happiness, ne?"

Tsuzuki clenched the fuda in his hand. He knew Muraki was trying to provoke him again. "This is not a laughing matter." He jabbed a finger at the flames that still burned unabated. "That fireball was aimed at you. What type of twisted covenant gives one party the right to kill the other? You must be suicidal as well as insane to enter such an agreement."

"On the contrary." Muraki leaned closer, a mocking glint in his visible grey eye. "Why I should I fear death when I am under the protection of EnmaCho's most powerful Shinigami?"

Tsuzuki tensed. The irony was not lost on him. To encounter a Shinigami was to be marked for death. That was one superstition that was grounded in fact. Even when he tried to protect lives, he ended up hastening their downfall.

"Do as you please. Fulfil your death wish. I don't care either way." Tsuzuki turned away and focused on the flames. They were starting to regroup and gather around them again. "It was stupid of me to think I could reason with a madman."

"Misguided," Muraki agreed. He rested his forearm and chin on Tsuzuki's shoulder again. "But it's part of your charm, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki ignored him. There was one spot in which the flames burned more brightly than others. Could it be the source of the illusion? There was only one way to find out.

He hurled the attack fuda. Water gushed forth, no longer requiring an animal intermediate. There was another hiss of steam, followed by a blinding flash of light. Tsuzuki ducked his head as a howling wind swept past, the final rush of overheated air seeking escape. Then there was silence.

Tsuzuki looked up. He was back in Muraki's bedroom, his clothes as dry as when he'd first entered the room. In front of him, the white kitten lay on the bed, watching with large grey eyes.

"You! This is all your doing!" He lunged forward, but was grabbed from behind.

"My beautiful Tsuzuki-san." Muraki crushed him close and nuzzled his neck. "Even when you're angry, I still find you desirable." He pressed his lips against the curve of Tsuzuki's throat. His hands clutched at the damp shirt, and pulled it free of the trousers to stroke the taut muscles of his abdomen. "My lust for you increases each time I see you wield your supernatural powers." He bit Tsuzuki's earlobe, his breath hot against his ear. "I must have you now."

Tsuzuki wrenched his head away in disgust. "You've already had me. Once is more than enough." But he knew his body betrayed him. Why were Muraki's cool fingers able to leave a trail of searing heat wherever they touched his skin? Why were his limbs, usually so powerful and quick, unable to extricate himself from Muraki's embrace?

"Liar," Muraki murmured. His velvet-soft voice made the insult sound like a loving endearment. "You gave me nothing I couldn't have found in the nearest brothel." He seized Tsuzuki by the neck, his fingers curling around the long column of his throat. "Even a common street prostitute would have given me more than what I received from you last night."

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. He squirmed and writhed against Muraki's hold, gasping for air. He couldn't get a hand free to render Muraki unconscious. Sharp nails dug into each side of his throat. Warm stickiness trickled along his skin.

"Stay still," Muraki growled. His fingers tightened, his grip merciless. His false eye gleamed with excitement as he watched the blood form a pool in the hollow between the base of Tsuzuki's throat and collarbone. "I haven't finished with you yet."

Stars appeared before Tsuzuki's eyes. He couldn't see. The world lurched beneath his feet, as if trying to throw him off balance. Oblivion beckoned, inviting temporary relief from the agony.

The asphyxiating grip over Tsuzuki's throat was no more. Powerful arms easily lowered him to the bed. Slippery smooth material slid over his palms and between the webs of his fingers. Tsuzuki felt Muraki's hands adjust the tilt of his head and jaw, positioning him to best advantage.

Then warm lips were at his throat, a tongue lapping at the cuts.

"Mmm...deliciously sweet. You must be the real thing."

Consciousness returned as he lay on the bed. The first thing he saw was Muraki straddling him on elbows and knees, his shoulders looming directly in his line of vision.

Thankfully he could breathe again. The giddiness was gone. His vision was back to normal. His wounds were healing, leaving behind a slight itching sensation. And as Muraki shifted over his body, impatience getting the better of him, Tsuzuki heard the reassuring rustle of the paper charms.

Carefully he moved one hand up to his breast pocket.

"Such a shame." Muraki lifted his head. A smear of blood was visible at the corner of his mouth. "Much as I admire your healing powers, I wish I could savour your sweetness for--"

Tsuzuki pressed the fuda on Muraki's forehead, right between his eyes. "Get off me."

Muraki frowned, more annoyed than angry. "Tsuzuki-san--"

"Are you a gambling man, Muraki? An attack fuda at this range would blow your brains out and mutilate my arm. It's nothing to me, but it might be a problem for you, ne?"

"Perhaps." Muraki's gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "Of course, your statement is based on the assumption that you do hold an attack fuda to my head."

"I know what type of fuda I hold." Tsuzuki's gaze didn't waver.

Muraki looked down at him, an unreadable look in his visible grey eye. Beneath the silver hair, his false eye glowed.

Tsuzuki pressed the fuda with a fraction more force for emphasis.

Muraki's lips twitched, and the false eye dimmed. "Very well. I value my mental faculties too much to call your bluff." He lifted himself up to sit beside Tsuzuki on the bed.

Tsuzuki quickly crushed the fuda in his palm and placed it in his pocket.

"So which one was it?" Muraki asked. "Did I make the right decision?"

"Believe me, you did." Tsuzuki looked at his hands properly for the first time. They were both sheathed in a pair of violet velvet gloves. A steel buckle ensured each cuff was fitted to his wrists. He couldn't sense any supernatural magic emanating from them. "What's this for?"

"Consider it a gift," Muraki said indulgently. He ran his finger along one of the palms. "I want you to wear them when you come to me."

"Why?"

"Why not? I know I have been remiss in bringing you the roses, so I thought this would do in the interim." He picked up both gloved hands. "Of course, I also have an ulterior motive: I want to avoid a repeat of last night's events." He gripped Tsuzuki's hands before he could pull away. "I regard myself as a man of the world but, I swear to you, last night was the most bizarre sexual encounter I have experienced in my entire life. Is this normal for you?"

Tsuzuki turned red. "It's not me who's bizarre. I'm not the one who uses physical violence as foreplay."

"You just threatened to give me a serious head injury with your fuda," Muraki reminded him.

"I was defending myself!"

Muraki ignored him. "Last night, you attempted to do the same using a sake bottle. Then, after coming to me of your own free will--and giving every indication of enjoying the experience--you successfully knocked me out with your supernatural powers." A look of almost comical bewilderment crossed his face. "How could you end our evening together in such an abrupt fashion? Was it so repulsive for you?"

"I..." Tsuzuki bowed his head. "I told you to stop."

"You welcomed me in. You begged me to continue."

"You're exaggerating."

Muraki's quiet voice was relentless. "You arched against me as if you wanted us to merge into a single being of flesh and blood. You held me close as if you resented the physical barriers between us." His thumbs rubbed slow circles against the gloved palms.

Tsuzuki squeezed his eyes shut. Now was not the time to think of last night, but the images conjured up by Muraki's words couldn't be denied. A familiar ache stirred in the pit of his abdomen. Heat prickled his skin. The fire in the room may have been extinguished, but the one lurking inside him was still very much alive.

Muraki's breath was warm against his forehead. "My flesh was the canvas on which you inscribed your true feelings." He nuzzled Tsuzuki's hair. "Would you like me to show you?"

Lust flared, but Tsuzuki viciously shoved it back. He scrambled mentally for something--anything--to keep Muraki at bay. Active resistance would be met with brute force. He needed a different tactic.

An idea came to him. A dangerous one...but it might just work. Attack his vulnerable spot: his ego.

Tsuzuki looked up for a moment, violet eyes wide, then quickly averted his gaze. "I...I have a confession to make." The hesitation wasn't entirely faked.

"Do you?" Muraki's voice rippled with amusement. "Let me hear it." His lips began tracing the graceful arch of Tsuzuki's eyebrows.

"Last night, I got carried away. I've gone without...for such a long time. I guess I went a little crazy. I've never been good at controlling physical cravings." He flushed with shame at the truth of his words. "You must realise there's no personal feelings associated with what happened. I was hungry; you offered to feed me; I accepted your offer until I was full. It's as simple as that."

Muraki stilled, his lips poised over the bridge of Tsuzuki's nose.

Tsuzuki dared to look up, his features carefully composed in a mask of contrition. "If I misled you, then I apologise for my behaviour. But I'm sure that you, of all people, should understand."

Muraki said nothing. His features were unreadable. He squeezed Tsuzuki's fingers until the bones cracked.

Tsuzuki swore and pulled his hands free. "Muraki!"

"Forgive me, Tsuzuki-san." His lips curved in a parody of a smile. "I suppose I got carried away, ne?" Abruptly he rose to his feet and shrugged out of his coat. "Take off your clothes."

Tsuzuki's jaw dropped. This wasn't what he'd expected at all. "W-What?"

Muraki took off his glasses and tossed them on the night table. "If you're going to make me believe your story, then you'll have to prove it." There was a taunting ugliness in his voice. "So take off your clothes. I want to see for myself how little I mean to you."

"Go visit a brothel. Go lie with a prostitute." Tsuzuki cradled his crushed fingers, waiting for them to heal. "I have nothing to prove to you."

"Why, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki drawled mockingly, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous."

Tsuzuki flexed his fingers to test them. "You know better," he said in a low voice. "In any case, I'm not here for you." He looked around the room. "Where is your cat?"

Muraki replied by pulling the black polo neck free from his trousers, revealing pale skin stretched over a lean musculature. His pectoral and shoulder muscles flexed and rippled, a tantalising hint of raw power inherent in the simple movement.

Tsuzuki watched, riveted. His gaze was drawn to the faint bruises along one shoulder and the side of his throat, the mottled red-purple colour stark against his ghostly pale flesh.

Muraki shook his head from the close-fitting collar. His silver hair fell in a cascade over his face, making him look absurdly young and vulnerable. With a careless hand he pulled the strands away, shattering the illusion. His slanted grey eyes were cold, devoid even of the heat of physical lust. His lips were compressed in a forbidding line.

"Divorcing my emotions from my actions comes as easily to me as breathing. I've practised it every day in my line of work, and honed it to an art in my free time. Whether it is penetrating the chest wall to save the life of a patient with a pneumothorax or entering a beautiful body writhing in the extremity of pleasure and pain...it is all the same to me." He raised one quizzical brow. "Can you say the same for yourself, Tsuzuki-san?"


	10. Melting steel, yielding velvet

Updated 15/9/04 with minor corrections.

Thanks to demonprist and Gengkotsuya for beta-reading. DP also provided useful cat tips, and the image of Muraki playing with fuda.

kaiserchan and demonprist have done some fic art. You can see it on my homepage. Go look!

xxxxx

Tsuzuki looked away. Muraki always had the uncanny knack for asking troublesome questions.

He thought of the souls he'd summoned to Meifu, the individuals who clung to life long after their allotted time. Few came willingly; most required coercion and supernatural force. Some were possessed or cursed at the time; such deaths were particularly bloody and horrific, but technically, each was a success. When he cast a spell or summoned his shikigami, there was no time to doubt, or question, or hesitate. Action took priority over emotion. Guilt was an indulgence he reserved for later, when the destruction was finished and his task complete.

He could divorce emotion from action when it came to work - at least until the job was done. He had several decades' worth of practice. But could he do it for himself, tonight, with the most dangerous, unpredictable and seductive individual he'd ever met? Sex without emotion, without commitment, without ties. Physical pleasure without any ties or obligation...

A frisson of excitement pierced through his consciousness.

Tsuzuki didn't know the answer to Muraki's question, but he wanted to find out the truth for himself. For decades he kept tight control over his appetite for the voluptuous, terrified of the consequences of giving in to temptation.

"Yes." Tsuzuki's voice was husky and unsure to his own ears. "I can say the same for myself."

"Really? Then show me. Take off your clothes."

The icy bluntness of Muraki's words cut through Tsuzuki's bravado. What the hell was he thinking? He was mad to even consider a repeat encounter. "I have nothing to prove to you." Tsuzuki slid to his feet, the blood roaring in his ears. "I came here to see your cat."

Muraki grasped his shoulder, nails digging into Tsuzuki's flesh through the layers of cloth. "Prove it. Come to my bed, demonstrate your indifference to my touch, and I'll let you play with the kitten for as long as you want." His voice dropped to a whisper. "How hard can it be?"

Tsuzuki shivered, and it wasn't from pain.

'How hard can it be?' The question reverberated in his mind.

He didn't know the answer. All he knew was the terrible hunger clawing at his insides, screaming for release. He wanted to rip off the rest of Muraki's clothes and shove him on the bed. He wanted to sink his teeth into the broad white shoulder and mark the beautiful flesh with cuts and bruises.

To act on it would be abhorrent to everything he believed in. To do nothing would drive him insane. He remained rooted to the spot, muscles locked in paralysed indecision.

His inaction proved to be a decision in itself.

Muraki's long white fingers lifted his jaw, and began untangling the knot of his tie. His movements were methodical and unhurried, lacking any sense of urgency or impatience. After the tie slithered free, his hands moved to the shirt, carefully undoing each button in turn. He didn't speak a single word.

Tsuzuki watched him from beneath hooded lids, his heart pounding against his ribs. He didn't attempt to hinder or assist Muraki in any way; his own control was so tenuous that he feared he would give himself away with the slightest movement.

One of the ruby studs fell into Tsuzuki's line of vision, partially hidden by Muraki's silver hair. Even in the soft illumination of the bedroom, its glitter demanding attention. It had been cold and sharp against his tongue. But Muraki's flesh had been soft and warm, and he had trembled with pleasure during Tsuzuki's playful nibbling last night.

Tsuzuki gritted his teeth. This memory was an added distraction he could do without.

Muraki paid him no heed. His fingers didn't linger or tease as he unbuttoned the shirt. It was an impersonal gesture, lacking any sensual intent. Compared to his earlier ardour, it made no sense at all. When the shirt was opened, he didn't pause to caress or admire Tsuzuki's bare torso. Instead, he walked behind Tsuzuki and took hold of the lapels of his trenchcoat.

He may as well have been preparing a patient for a physical examination.

The realisation hit Tsuzuki like a bullet. Was this how Muraki treated his patients? No mockery or lust or violence - merely this clinical detachment that bordered on indifference?

Tsuzuki rebelled. He wrenched the coat from Muraki's grasp and whirled around to face him.

Muraki dropped his hands to his sides. "What now?" His voice was tight and clipped. "Have you changed your mind yet again?"

"I..." Tsuzuki lowered his gaze, feeling foolish. He hadn't made up his mind in the first place. Desire and conscience pulled at him, a never- ending tug-of-war that threatened to tear him apart. He half-wished Muraki would use force, and take the decision out of his hands; physical violence meant little to a Shinigami. It was the agony of indecision he found unbearable.

From the bed, the kitten let out a plaintive meow. It came to its feet and padded toward Tsuzuki.

"No. Don't influence him." Muraki scooped it up in his arms. The kitten hissed and tried to claw at him. Muraki held it away by the scruff of the neck. "Leave him be. He's old enough to make his own decisions now."

The kitten's limbs went limp. Muraki cradled it close again. His long fingers caressed its tiny form, gently stroking from the top of its head to its little tail. The creature let out a soft purr of pleasure and curled itself into a ball of fur against his chest.

Tsuzuki flushed, remembering how he'd made his own sounds of delight last night. Muraki's innate sensuality had cast its own spell, charming him into eager compliance. Even now, watching them both, he longed to be the one being stroked by those skilled hands. But Muraki's features may as well have been set in stone. Even with his pet, he showed no enjoyment or warmth.

He'd seen this before: sensuality shackled to the demands of rigid self- discipline. The mark of the motivated and ambitious - like Tatsumi, the youngest Shinigami to be promoted to the position of secretary in the Shoukanka's history. No doubt Hisoka would follow the same path as he matured and decided on his own future. He possessed the same determination and stubbornness.

So was it so surprising that Muraki was capable of it too? How else could he have become a successful surgeon? For all his psychopathic tendencies, Muraki knew how to control his appetites when necessary.

As he was doing so now. Asceticism emerging triumphant over sensuality.

It incensed Tsuzuki beyond reason. To see Muraki so cool and collected, while he could barely leash his own desire...

It drove him to action.

He shrugged out of his black trenchcoat. The rattle of the buckles and the rustle of fuda were unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent bedroom. He threw it over the back of a nearby chair.

Muraki's hand froze over the animal's nape. The kitten meowed in protest and arched against his motionless palm.

Tsuzuki took off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He hadn't bothered to wear trouser suspenders this time. "I know how to undress myself."

"I see." Muraki placed the kitten on the mattress. "I'll make sure to remember that in future." With his hands free, he turned away and began to undo the fly of his jeans.

Tsuzuki didn't look around. He kept his gaze averted as he unbuckled his belt and slid it free of the loops of his trousers. The anger of a few seconds ago was no more; it had been replaced by a brain-numbing sense of dissociation. He continued to undress, but felt depersonalised from the entire experience.

_Why am I doing this? In exchange for time with the kitten?_

It only took a moment to pull his feet free from his shoes, then remove his socks. The trousers slid to his ankles. His underwear followed a few seconds later.

_To prove to Muraki I feel nothing apart from physical lust?_

He didn't know. Maybe he would learn the answer in Muraki's bed.

Tsuzuki clenched his jaw against the laugh that threatened to escape. He was mad...as mad as the doctor he pursued and wanted with every fibre of his being. It was the only logical explanation.

Maybe insanity was a contagious condition.

Tsuzuki stepped away from the discarded clothes, outwardly calm. The only items he still wore were his watch and the pair of violet gloves. The gloves fitted his hands perfectly, as if tailor-made for him. Curious, he ran his fingers down the centre of his chest. The velvet was soft and warm, almost liquid in texture. He shivered at the delicious tactile sensation.

Muraki's gaze narrowed as he watched Tsuzuki's reaction. "Come to bed," he snapped as he yanked the blankets aside. Dislodged, the kitten leapt on the nightstand and yowled in protest.

Tsuzuki obeyed, his eyes lowered. He slid between the pristine white sheets, rested his head on the pillow, and waited.

Muraki remained standing by the nightstand as he took the jar of lubricant from the drawer. The light from the lamp cast most of his muscular physique in shadow. As he moved, the light shifted over the planes of his pale skin, teasing Tsuzuki with glimpses of pale flesh imbued with gold.

Beautiful. There was no other word to describe him.

As the light fell on Muraki's back, Tsuzuki saw multiple lacerations marking the pale flesh. One formed a deep vermillion line starting at the nape of his neck that traversed the contour of a broad shoulder blade to end above the swell of one buttock.

Had he inflicted those wounds? He couldn't remember being so rough...

Muraki turned around. "What is it?"

Tsuzuki interlaced his gloved fingers together. Muraki would be safe from his talons tonight. "Nothing."

Muraki coated his fingers with the gel, but his steely gaze never left Tsuzuki's face. His movements were methodical and slow. He might have been preparing himself to conduct a surgical procedure, so unruffled was his demeanour.

Sensuality masked by severity.

Tsuzuki's anger crackled into life again, as unexpected as a lightning bolt.

There it was. There, standing before him, silhouetted by the lamplight, was his reason for being here.

He wanted to discover the limits of Muraki's self-control. He wanted to claw it to pieces with his bare hands to unearth the molten passion flowing like thick lava beneath. He wanted to pull Muraki with him so that the need drowned them both, and the fiery heat burnt them to cinders. Then maybe-- just maybe--he would be cured of this terrible yearning once and for all.

Muraki came to the bed. The mattress dipped as he sat beside Tsuzuki, his back resting against the headboard. With his lubricated fingers, he stroked his half-erect cock into full arousal. His slanted eyes remained shuttered; his lips were compressed in a grim line. If he found any pleasure in his self-imposed task, he wasn't revealing it.

Tsuzuki flushed. Desire twisted his insides. His gloved fingers shifted restlessly against the sheets.

Yet Muraki only had eyes for himself.

Tsuzuki lifted himself up from the pillow. With one gloved hand, he seized Muraki's wrist.

Muraki resisted his hold. He continued to stroke his shaft with his captured arm, his rhythm steady and even. Even as the velvet-clad fingers slid up to clench the flexing muscles of his forearm, Muraki refused to acknowledge Tsuzuki's presence.

Tsuzuki scowled. He sat up and yanked Muraki's masturbating hand away. He pinned it against the headboard, his velvet grip tight enough to restrict the blood supply and send shooting pain into Muraki's fingers. In one quick motion, he straddled Muraki's thighs so they faced each other.

Muraki remained silent, chin lifted in haughty defiance. But in the depths of the false eye, four points of red light flared into life. Between them, Muraki's erection arrowed up towards Tsuzuki, silently begging for his touch.

Tsuzuki couldn't resist. He lifted his hips and positioned himself over Muraki's lap. He wanted this. He needed this. If Muraki wouldn't give it to him, he would take it as he pleased.

With his violet eyes locked on Muraki's remote gaze, he impaled himself with a single stroke.

Muraki's body jerked to life. A strangled growl left his throat, and he buried his teeth into the juncture of Tsuzuki's shoulder and neck. His hands clutched Tsuzuki to him, nails clawing deep lacerations into his waist and buttocks. His hips thrust up to bury himself in the welcoming heat of Tsuzuki's body.

Tsuzuki threw his head back. At last. He welcomed the pain, a necessary prelude to the delicious sensation of Muraki filling him up. He lifted his hips, doing his best to match the fierce rhythm of Muraki's thrusts and accentuate the seductive friction against his prostate. His gloved hands slid over broad shoulders as he sought purchase over the pale skin.

Muraki gasped, his breath hot against Tsuzuki's neck. He bit Tsuzuki's shoulder repeatedly, relishing the flavour of ever-healing skin. He grasped the narrow hips, seeking to control the movements of Tsuzuki's body.

But Tsuzuki wouldn't let him. In this position, looming over Muraki, he knew he had gravity working in his favour. He continued to rise and fall over Muraki's shaft, every lineament of his body dewed with perspiration, straining for completion. His muscles fell into the sinuous rhythm of fucking; with each descent he opened himself to draw Muraki in, only to tighten around him as he lifted himself up and withdrew. His own cock swelled between their bodies, finding pleasure in the stimulation of his prostate.

Tsuzuki's fingers splayed possessively across Muraki's back and nape, curling into the healing lacerations he'd scratched the night before. His exposed nails would have opened the cuts again, but the barrier of liquid velvet prevented him from causing further injury.

A shiver passed through Muraki's frame. He shifted in Tsuzuki's hands, seeking more velvet caresses. The thrusts of his hips lost their initial urgency and eased to a slow undulation. His grip relaxed as it slid down to the lean perfection of Tsuzuki's quadriceps as it flexed and extended beneath his fingers. His fingertips left a smear of blood wherever he touched. Slowly he lifted his head to watch Tsuzuki at work.

The heat of his gaze filled Tsuzuki with dizzy triumph. He didn't notice the blood or cuts already healing on his back and hips. Muraki couldn't hide, not from him. With each touch rough and gentle, each movement violent and sensual, he revealed his insatiable hunger for carnality. His brows were drawn in a frown, but his grey eyes glittered, no longer forbidding and cold. The pallor of his cheekbones was replaced by a flush of heat. With each wet glide of flesh against flesh, Muraki's façade of icy severity melted before him.

Tsuzuki let his fingers run through silver hair, admiring the way it contrasted with violet velvet. But with the gloves on, he could only imagine their texture. Impulsively he stilled his hips and lowered his head to the curve of Muraki's neck. The strands felt so delicately soft against his face, like fine-woven silk, a curious contrast to the lean-muscled strength against him. Inside him.

He sought Muraki's ear with his lips. His tongue lashed the delicate whorls, then teasingly flicked the tempting ruby stud. His teeth nipped at the soft skin overlying the pulse below the angle of his jaw. It throbbed wildly as the blood raced under the skin beneath his lips.

Muraki shifted beneath his touch. His nails began to curl in Tsuzuki's thighs. "Tsuzuki-san..."

"You said it yourself. There's no escape. There's no hiding from your true nature." He rested his forehead against Muraki's, their lips mere inches apart. "I know people who deny their physical appetites, ruthlessly crushing their desires into oblivion. They barricade themselves against all emotion to the point where they forget how to feel in the first place." He allowed his lips to brush against Muraki's as he spoke, enjoying the illicit thrill it sent through sensitised nerve endings. "Do you honestly find this experience no different from performing an operation on a patient?"

Muraki leaned forward, his lips easing open as he tried to kiss Tsuzuki properly.

Tsuzuki pulled away. "You're not like them. You're no ascetic. You can pretend, but you're doomed to fail. You still feel. You still want. You still need." His muscles rippled around the erection buried within him for emphasis.

Muraki exhaled sharply. A thin film of perspiration dewed his forehead. Harsh lines bracketed his mouth. He looked like a man suffering unspeakable agony. "As do you." Without warning, he wrapped his fingers around the sharp angle of Tsuzuki's hips and thrust into him hard. "You want me."

Tsuzuki arched up in helpless abandon, lips parted on a groan as Muraki found that perfect spot inside him.

"You need me." Another thrust, more brutal than the first.

Tsuzuki gasped. He tried to grip Muraki's shoulders for support, but the gloves only made the flesh slide through his grasp.

"Say it." Muraki thrust up again, eyes narrowed to slits. The false eye glowed blood red.

Tsuzuki shook his head, too breathless to speak. His muscles quivered with the aftershocks of the friction against his prostate.

"Liar." Muraki lifted Tsuzuki from his lap, his hands holding Tsuzuki's hips as if he were a rag doll.

Tsuzuki whimpered and scrabbled at Muraki's shoulders, wordlessly protesting the enforced separation.

Muraki's lips twisted. He pushed Tsuzuki on the mattress so that he lay on his side, then curled behind him and sheathed his cock within Tsuzuki's moist heat once again. With one free hand, he reached around to squeeze Tsuzuki's cock.

Tsuzuki muffled a moan of pure bliss against the rumpled sheets. Muraki's thrusts were frenzied and fierce, but Tsuzuki was relaxed and ready for it. Sparks of pleasure-pain from his prostate sizzled through his trembling body like bolts of lightning. The sure milking of his cock elicited languid waves of lava-thick pleasure that incinerated what remaining resistance he had left, leaving him weak and helpless. Dual stimulation, dual pleasure. Each complementing the other.

"Actions...speak louder than words." Muraki nuzzled Tsuzuki's cheek. "Look at yourself. I rest my case."

Tsuzuki looked. Directly in his line of vision, a few metres from the bed, was the wardrobe mirror. He saw himself reflected there, violet-black eyes glittering with lust, dark hair tumbling over his flushed face, lips parted as he panted in time to Muraki's thrusts. Muraki loomed from behind, silver hair falling over Tsuzuki's shoulder, lips nibbling at Tsuzuki's ear, his powerful pale frame shifting fluidly as he continued the steady fucking.

They looked beautiful twined together. Two opposites united to form a perfect whole.

_No. Don't think like that. Resist him. Fight him!_

But what was the point in fighting when it felt so incredibly good?

Tsuzuki bit his lip against a moan of pleasure as Muraki stroked his thumb over the sensitised head, gently rubbing precome over the silky tight skin. He watched the movements of Muraki's hands, as hypnotised by their grace as the sensations they evoked in him.

"It feels good, ne?" At Tsuzuki's tight nod, Muraki toyed with his testicles, gently cupping and squeezing them, then rolling them within his palm until Tsuzuki's cock ached unbearably. "And this?"

The answer came out as a breathless gasp. "You know it does." Tsuzuki tried to rub his erection into the sheets, but Muraki seized it first.

"Let me," he murmured. He stroked the shaft again with renewed vigour. "Let me do everything for you, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki clutched the sheets in his hands. How could he resist? Muraki was very good at this. He couldn't remember the last time someone had wanted him so much. Tatsumi sought to comfort and heal, careful not to overstep his self-imposed role as nurturing protector; he had never touched him with such enthusiasm, and drive...and sheer arrogance. With his senses wrapped in a haze of heated pleasure, Tsuzuki could feel his arousal spiral towards climax like a leaf caught in a warm summer updraft.

But it was too slow. Tsuzuki wanted more, needed more. Frustrated, he tried to increase the pace of Muraki's rhythm, pressing his aching erection into skilled hands, squeezing the cock that stroked him so intimately.

Muraki shuddered. "Such stamina," he breathed. "I've never seen anything like it." He released Tsuzuki's cock and withdrew again. "Enough. You've already ruined my reputation once."

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki gripped Muraki's wrist as he twisted around. "Please--"

"Listen to me." Muraki sank his teeth into the juncture of nape and shoulder to reprimand him. "Let me use my mouth." His voice cracked a little. "Let me taste you properly...just this once."

"No." Sweat fell into Tsuzuki's eyes, making them sting. He rubbed his face against the cuff of one glove. "I'm not here...to feed you."

Muraki sighed behind him, his breath warm against Tsuzuki's shoulder. "How selfish you are, refusing to share your strength with an insignificant human such as I." He pressed himself close again, allowing the head of his cock to rub against the sensitive cleft.

Tsuzuki shivered and pushed back, shamelessly seeking the violation. "You're many things...but 'insignificant' isn't one of them."

"Was that a compli--" Muraki paused, his breaths coming in soft gasps as Tsuzuki impaled himself again. "Greedy." He trembled as he was sheathed completely. "This won't work. You're too good. We must try another tactic."

"Mmm...yes...more..." Tsuzuki was too focused on the sensations to concentrate on words. Muraki was with him again, filling him up, setting off sharp bursts of pleasure-pain inside him.

Muraki gestured at the black trenchcoat hanging over the chair. "Use your fuda. Make an illusion of me. Let my illusion self drink from you, while I take you...like this." He clutched Tsuzuki to him and rocked in and out of the enveloping wetness from behind, his movements slow and easy.

Tsuzuki shook his head. "You must...be mad. One of you...is trouble enough." He grasped Muraki's hip for support, and began to move against him in delicious counterpoint.

"Really?" Muraki's wavering chuckle transmuted to a throaty growl. "Ahhh...I can only...do so much." His silken voice was no more; emotion had transformed it to a hoarse sandpaper rasp.

This was music to Tsuzuki's ears. It rippled with longing and frustration and vulnerability...all the feelings Muraki had boasted he didn't have.

"Tsuzuki-san...please."

His pleading was the most erotic sound Tsuzuki had ever heard. For one dangerous moment, he felt a twinge of sympathy for his nemesis...until Muraki began to thrust deeper, faster, harder. With his free hand he gripped Tsuzuki's erection and harnessed it to the same relentless pace.

Sympathy was swiftly overwhelmed by more immediate urges.

Tsuzuki pressed his flushed face into the sheets, his breath leaving his lungs in ragged pants. Muraki's frenzied actions were welded to emotion, each driven by the other in an ever-escalating spiral of ecstatic feeling. His façade of cool indifference was well and truly broken. And Tsuzuki loved every moment of it. His body was no longer his own; its sole purpose was to be an instrument of Muraki's pleasure. Muraki gave; he received. Now he was receiving so much he thought he would explode from the ecstasy of it.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Something held him back. There was an invisible barrier preventing him from reaching that all-encompassing pinnacle of pleasure. Even as he reached for it with both hands, propelled by Muraki's relentless efforts, he could feel it float higher, just out of reach.

"No, no, no..." He writhed on the bed, straining for release.

Muraki groaned something against his shoulder and thrust one last time. It sent a fierce jolt through Tsuzuki's body...but it wasn't enough to send him over.

So near, and yet so far.

The only sound in the room was their gasping breaths. The agony Tsuzuki felt in his groin had subsided to a bearable ache. He could feel the sweaty length of Muraki against his back, his head resting against Tsuzuki's shoulder like a dead weight. His silver hair spilled over Tsuzuki's throat and cheek, and fell across his parted lips and nostrils. Tsuzuki snorted, trying to blow them away.

"Muraki," he whispered. "Muraki?"

He didn't move a muscle.

Tsuzuki shook his head, trying to clear Muraki's hair from his face. It was starting to tickle. Looking down, he saw a pale arm slung carelessly over his waist, one hand resting above his crotch. The fingers glistened with precome. Long legs entwined with his, pinning his lower limbs to the mattress. Even in sleep, he was still possessive.

Muraki had pushed himself to the limit of his endurance. Now here he lay, satiated and exhausted, a lean-muscled coil of weary masculine grace.

Tsuzuki rubbed his eyes with gloved hands and eyed their mirrored reflections. Was this outcome so surprising? After all, Muraki was human, with all the limitations the condition entailed. Lacerate his flesh, and he would carry the scars for months. Pose a sexual challenge to his ego, and he would obligingly fuck his way to mindless oblivion to defend his reputation.

_Muraki, you fool. You make a covenant with a demon that tries to burn you alive. You lust after a Shinigami who mortally injured you once, and could easily kill you now. You must be insane to think you can meddle in our affairs._

_It makes no sense. Why?_

Muraki stirred against his shoulder. "Mmm." He regarded Tsuzuki's reflection in the mirror with heavy-lidded eyes. "My dear Tsuzuki- san..." His voice was light with amused fondness as he rubbed his cheek against Tsuzuki's shoulder. "What am I going to do with you?"

Tsuzuki twisted around to face him. "Let me examine your kitten."

Muraki shook his head. "You were meant to prove your indifference first. And instead, you made liars out of us both." He nudged Tsuzuki on his back and loomed over him, propped up on one outstretched arm. "Look at yourself. The evidence of your own desire is still here..." he glanced down meaningfully, "...and here." He brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, eyes closing in bliss. When he opened them again, the false eye shone.

Tsuzuki turned red. "Stop that."

"Why?" Muraki lowered his head, and silver hair fell over his eyes. "Does this excite you, Tsuzuki-san? Would you like a taste?" He caressed Tsuzuki's jaw, his saliva-slick fingers trailing a wet path to his lips. "Next time you come to me, I'll ensure you partake as well. To share with another is to double the pleasure."

Tsuzuki pushed his hand away. At such close range, the red characters written on Muraki's eye were impossible to ignore. "Your eye. Who did this to you?"

"You can read it now, ne?"

Tsuzuki could read it all too well. "What's it doing there? Why--"

"Once it was tradition to tattoo the name of a lover on your flesh as a sign of your allegiance...and affection." He smiled, slanted eyes crinkling at the corners. "Such a romantic notion, ne?"

"Are...are you saying you wrote it?"

"No. My skills do not extend to ophthalmic surgery. That is an entire subspeciality in itself." He lowered his head and playfully rubbed his nose against Tsuzuki's. "But to a powerful demon, this is nothing. He merely says the word, and his will is done."

"Which demon?" Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki's face in both hands, unbalancing him. He pulled Muraki down and shifted around so they lay beside each other, face to face. "Tell me the name of the demon!"

"Tsuzuki-san." Muraki stroked his cheek. His voice was soft and gentle as if consoling a frightened child. "There is no need to be alarmed. You know the name already."

"This isn't a game. Your life is at stake. Your final trial and judgement before JuOhCho is at stake!" Tsuzuki gave Muraki a little shake. "Even if you care nothing for others, at least think of yourself!"

"You know the name," Muraki repeated quietly. "There's no need for me to declare what already lurks within your heart."

"No, I don't! I don't know the name. Stop lying, Muraki!"

"Hush, it's all right. Don't upset yourself like this." He brushed aside Tsuzuki's overlong hair from his face, sharp nails skimming lightly over his skin. "There's no need to feel ashamed. Like guilt and regret, shame is another useless emotion."

Pain twisted inside Tsuzuki. He thought this old wound was long healed, but it stung as Muraki's gentle words ripped it open again. Such compassion from the enemy...he didn't want to listen. He couldn't bear to listen. He hardened his heart against it. "It's not me. It can't be me." He lifted narrowed eyes of violet-black to meet Muraki's regard. "I know it's not me."

Muraki smiled tenderly, and his false eye glowed. "You look so cute when you're being obstinate."

"Is it the kitten? Does it house the demon responsible for your covenant?" Tsuzuki propped himself up on one elbow to look at the nightstand. The kitten rested on its stomach, watching them both with piercing grey eyes. "I know you're the one who created the illusion of fire. Are you the one who marked his eye as well?"

The kitten lashed its tail and meowed loudly at him.

"Come here." Tsuzuki yanked at the buckle of one glove. "Let's settle it once and for all."

Muraki grabbed one of Tsuzuki's wrists. "Leave it be." He sat up and took hold of the other wrist as well. "You must always wear these gloves in my presence. Once you have greater mastery over your powers, we can consider removing them."

"Greater mastery?" Tsuzuki raised a sceptical brow. He'd had seventy-odd years to master his powers, with mixed success at best. "Or do you mean when I lose the urge to attack and kill you?"

Muraki tilted his head, grey eyes glinting. "I'll settle for whichever one comes first."

Tsuzuki pulled his gloved hands free. No other person he knew radiated such an exasperating combination of arrogance and charm. "Be prepared to wait a long, long time."

"I can wait. Patience is one of the few virtues I have left. Fortitude must be yours. The agony of anorgasmia is a condition I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy." He cast another look down Tsuzuki's body to inspect the still- erect cock. "Why won't you let me use my mouth--"

"Don't." Tsuzuki pushed his face away. He bent his knees to conceal himself. "I...I've dealt with this before. It's easier if it settles on its own."

"Have you seen a doctor about this?"

Tsuzuki flashed him an annoyed look. "No."

"A sex therapist?"

"No!"

"A psychiatrist?"

"Muraki!"

"This is most curious." Muraki stroked his chin, deep in thought. "There's no mention of previous urological injury in my grandfather's records, and you shouldn't be suffering from any neurovascular dysfunction...unless..." Something menacing flickered in Muraki's expression. "How long have you had this condition?"

Tsuzuki turned as red as a beetroot. "That's none of your business!"

"I beg to differ. Your physical health is very much my business. Did you suffer from this while you were alive?"

Tsuzuki swallowed. Much of his short life was spent struggling to stay alive and fleeing from people who wanted him dead. It didn't leave room for any relationships outside his immediate family. But when he was alone, climax came easily enough. "No, not that I know of."

"Interesting." Muraki reached for the nightstand drawer and pulled out his lighter and a pack of cigarettes. "When did you first notice this problem?"

Tsuzuki lowered his head so that his chin rested on his knees. He was too embarrassed to look at Muraki any longer.

The kitten jumped on the mattress. It padded to Tsuzuki and rubbed itself against his legs. When Tsuzuki stroked its back with a gloved hand, it purred.

Muraki raised a brow, but said nothing. He rested his back against the headboard, lit his cigarette and smoked in silence. Waiting.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. Many years ago, Tatsumi had tried to help by using his shadows to cocoon them both against the rest of the world. He wanted to create a little place of tenderness and love, a haven in the midst of the everyday horror and banality of their work. Even now, Tsuzuki still remembered his touch: so gentle, and protective, and considerate. Tatsumi went to such pains to put Tsuzuki first...to the detriment of his own desires. Without success.

Tatsumi had taken it personally, despite Tsuzuki's claims to the contrary. He insisted on perfection in everything he did. Failure was not permitted in any endeavour.

After that, there had been no one else. Tsuzuki made sure of that.

Then Hisoka came to EnmaCho: a teenage boy who was as cute as a button, and filled with repressed pain and anger. Tsuzuki couldn't help but be drawn to his beauty and determination and courage. At one time he even harboured fantasies of initiating Hisoka into the pleasures of sex. He imagined himself as the wiser older tutor carefully bringing the young student to orgasm, showering him with love and tenderness to erase the nightmare of his first encounter with Muraki.

But it never came to pass. Hisoka cared for him as a brother, not a lover.

Tsuzuki buried his head in his hands. It was just as well. He had no idea how to bring himself off. How the hell could he teach anyone else how to do it? The blind leading the blind...

"Stop it, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki's voice rang like the crack of a whip.

Tsuzuki lifted his head. "Stop what?"

Muraki watched him closely. The kitten returned to his side and sat on his left, equally serious. "Didn't I tell you that the past cannot be changed? Mulling over what might have been is a pointless exercise."

"How do you know what I'm thinking? Are you empathic?"

"Hardly. Your features reveal your emotions all too easily." Muraki studied the glowing end of his cigarette. "Your unfortunate condition has only afflicted you since you've been a Shinigami, ne?"

"I don't... " Tsuzuki blinked. It was true. "What does being a Shinigami have to do with this?"

"Everything," Muraki replied tightly. "Enma has a great deal to answer for."

Tsuzuki stared. "You...you know DaiOh-sama?"

"I've never had the pleasure of meeting him, but I know of him. Then again, who doesn't know the all-knowing, all-powerful ruler of EnmaCho?" Sarcasm dripped from Muraki's mocking drawl. "Come to think of it, this strikes me as typical of his handiwork. To grant you the gift of an immortal body, yet deprive you of the liberty to reach the ultimate pleasure with it..." Muraki stubbed out the cigarette in one vicious movement. "I suppose he wants to avoid further contamination."

"What...what are you saying? Are you accusing DaiOh-sama of...of...interfering..." The idea was preposterous. "But why would he care what I do with myself? It's not any of his business!"

"Enma cares a great deal about your progress. A despot must always be on the lookout for potential rivals in his midst if he is to maintain his grip on power."

"Despot? But he's not like that at all!"

"He employs many others to do his work for him. But this time, he has gone too far." Muraki exchanged grim looks with the kitten. "He deserves to pay for such interference, ne?"

The kitten yowled enthusiastically.

Tsuzuki shook his head, hopelessly confused. "But...but how's that related to me? I'm not after DaiOh-sama's job. I have enough work to do as it is. It doesn't make sense. Unless..." He cast Muraki a suspicious look. "...you're creating these fabrications to distract me from my investigation of you!"

"Nothing could be further from the truth." Muraki brushed his hair back and smiled, once again cheerful. "Please don't be distracted. Your investigation of me must take top priority!" He slung one arm around Tsuzuki's waist and pulled him close to nuzzle his ear. "You must visit every night to interrogate me further and gather clues, ne? I will wait here for you."

"Muraki..." His protest sounded half-hearted to his own ears. "I'm being serious."

Muraki turned off the bedside lamp, shrouding them in semi-darkness. Outside the bedroom window, faint fingers of light penetrated the darkness of the night sky. The lights of the city still twinkled below, steadfast observers to the coming dawn.

"So am I. You must come earlier to me next time. Sunrise is less than an hour away, and we still have much to do."

Tsuzuki sighed, too tired to resist. He allowed himself to lean against Muraki, taking comfort from his physical warmth and strength. It had been such a bizarre night. Watching the sunrise seemed incredibly innocent compared to the other things they had done earlier.

Yet something niggled at him. What would Tatsumi think? Chief Konoe? Would Watari be as blasé about this as he had been with the Gushoshin-in-bed incident? And Hisoka...

Strange how sitting in the peaceful silence of Muraki's bed felt like an even greater betrayal than the sex. But he was off-duty, wasn't he? Why must he worry about his Shoukanka friends around the clock? They weren't in any danger from Muraki's influence at the moment.

An image drifted into his mind, unbidden: Tatsumi and Hisoka together watching him as he left. Would they be thinking about him right now?

Tsuzuki didn't want to think about it. Thinking required too much work for his exhausted brain. He shifted himself closer to Muraki and accepted the kiss that feathered his forehead.

"What are you trying to accomplish?" he murmured. "What are you after?"

"All in good time, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki eased them down to the bed, and pulled the sheets over them. "Mere mortals, such as I, need time to rest before morning."

"Whatever your plans are, you only have six nights left to the full moon. What will happen then?"

"Some say the world was created in six days. If such miracles are possible for a single God, then there is hope for those of us with more modest schemes, ne?"

Tsuzuki sighed again. Muraki always spoke in cryptic riddles he found impossible to decipher. It was so much easier to lie by his side, allow the warmth of his body to permeate his flesh, and close his eyes.

There would be time to question him in the morning

XXXXXX

Unfortunately, morning arrived too soon for Tsuzuki's liking.

He winced at the sunlight as he opened his eyes. His sleep had been too short to get a decent rest, yet long enough to leave him feeling dopey and disoriented.

Next to him, Muraki lay on his back, still fast asleep. The kitten rested on the same pillow beside his head, watching Tsuzuki with unblinking eyes.

"Don't you ever take a nap? "

The kitten meowed at him, stood up and jumped to the floor.

Tsuzuki checked his watch. If he went back now, he could shower at his apartment and reach the Shoukanka at a reasonable hour. He needed to make a good impression today. Chief Konoe and Watari were expecting cakes for morning tea...

Cakes! He'd left them here in Muraki's apartment!

He quickly dressed and went to the kitchen. The boxes were neatly stacked on the kitchen bench. Thank goodness! He took them in his arms...and realised they didn't weigh enough.

The first box was empty. So was the second. He tore open the third. Empty.

Muraki walked out of the bedroom wearing white trousers and a shirt open at the waist. In his arms, he carried the kitten. "If you were hungry, all you had to do was ask. It is customary to ask your host permission before raiding his kitchen, ne?"

"Muraki! You pig!" Tsuzuki held out the box. "Look at this!"

Muraki lowered his glasses to inspect it. "Look at what?"

"My point exactly! They're all gone!" Tsuzuki slammed the box down on the bench. "I want them back now!"

"Are you accusing me of consuming them?" Muraki wrinkled his nose at the thought. "I assure you, they were definitely not to my taste."

"Aha! But you must have tasted them to know that! So you did eat them!"

"I ate one," Muraki informed him stiffly. "That was more than enough."

"One box?"

"No, one cake. It was far too sugary." He winced at the memory.

"Then who ate the rest?"

Muraki looked pointedly at the kitten. The kitten looked back at him.

"How could an animal so small eat so much? How low of you to blame your pet for your own gluttony." Tsuzuki walked from around the bench, his gloved hands clenched into fists. "I bought those cakes for the people at the Shoukanka. I was supposed to share it with them today!"

"So you didn't buy all those confections for your own consumption?"

"Of course not. I'm not a glutton like you!" He jabbed Muraki's chest for emphasis.

Muraki sighed, a little annoyed. "Tsuzuki-san, sweets like these should be eaten fresh. Although they can keep, they taste best when you buy them on the day they are made."

"That doesn't excuse your thievery of food! To steal the source of one's sustenance is a crime--"

"But you are a Shinigami," Muraki reminded him. "Strictly speaking, your body doesn't require food for sustenance."

Damn him for being right. Not only did he talk in riddles, he always wanted to have the last word in an argument. "This is a pointless conversation. I'll simply have to get more cakes before I return to Meifu."

"I doubt any confectionery store will be open this early." Muraki placed the kitten on the kitchen bench and took out two mugs from a cupboard. "Why don't we have a cup of coffee? Later we can enjoy a sumptuous breakfast at one of the tearooms when they open for business--"

The kitten hissed and arched its back.

Muraki whirled around, but Tsuzuki was already gone.

XXXXXX

The young woman was polite but firm. "I'm sorry, sir. We don't open until eight-thirty. You are welcome to wait outside, but we can't let you in until we open for business."

"But I am bringing you business!" Tsuzuki clasped his hands together. "Please! I'll take anything!"

"We still haven't finished making the morning batch. If you come back in an hour's time--"

Watari would never forgive him. Chief Konoe would have a fit.

"I can't wait that long!" Tsuzuki fell to his knees, hands still clasped together. "Have you ever seen a grown man cry like a baby? Have you ever seen two grown men cry like babies? This is the horrific situation I will face if I don't buy your sweets! You have to help me! I'm willing to pay!" He fumbled in the breast pocket of his trenchcoat for money, and came up with handfuls of fuda.

Damn! He didn't bring any money!

The woman tried to close the door. "Excuse me. I must go back to work now."

Tsuzuki jumped up and wedged the door open with his foot. "This is an emergency! Please!"

"We are only a confectionery store. Most people call the police or the ambulance or fire station in such situations."

"My sugar levels are too low! I feel so dizzy!" Tsuzuki grabbed his head and did his best impersonation of a staggering drunk. "I must...eat...sweets...to survive..." He keeled over and collapsed on the pavement for dramatic effect. A few passers-by slowed down to stare at him, but all kept walking on.

The woman giggled. "Thank you for calling. Please come back in an hour's time!"

Tsuzuki grimaced as the door of the shop slide shut. The begging act had earned him nothing...except a bump to the back of his head from where he'd hit the ground. He sat up and rubbed it. To a human, such an injury would almost certainly cause concussion, but it was trivial to a Shinigami.

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it possible."

Tsuzuki looked up. Muraki leaned against the wall of the shopfront, smoking a cigarette with insouciant disregard for his surroundings. Neatly attired with his white trenchcoat belted around his waist, he looked crisp and clean and respectable. Everything Tsuzuki, sitting on the dusty footpath, was not.

"Why do you do this?" Muraki asked. "Why do you humiliate yourself before others? Is it easier to act the fool than to acknowledge your true nature?"

"How...how did you find me? How did you get here so quickly?"

Muraki shrugged. "The same way you did."

Tsuzuki clambered up and dusted his trenchcoat off. "If you're telling the truth, this is the second Shinigami power you've demonstrated." He folded his arms, once again serious. "Who has granted you such power? Demons don't grant such high-order skills--"

"You shouldn't make such sweeping generalisations, Tsuzuki-san. Not until you have associated with more demons, ne?" Muraki dropped the cigarette to the ground and ground it out with the heel of his shoe. "Maybe you should ask Enma how he is able to grant such a comprehensive range of powers to you Shinigami."

"Of course DaiOh-sama can grant us powers. He wouldn't be our boss otherwise. What are you insinuating about him?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just giving you food for thought."

Tsuzuki stared at him hard. "The only food I'm interested in is inside that store."

Muraki pushed himself from the wall and stood beside Tsuzuki to survey the storefront. "The construction of this building seems simple enough. Why don't you use your fuda? With a single attack, you can destroy the entire entrance and take what you want."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"Why do you insist on questioning my sanity? I am confident my plan will work more effectively than your previous strategy. Or..." His grey eyes lit up. "Summon your shikigami. Suzaku, Byakko, Touda...let them wreak their havoc on this shop. Let everyone here bear witness to the punishment meted out to those who choose to disobey you!"

"Shut up! I don't want to destroy anything. All I want is a few cakes." Tsuzuki looked around nervously, but no one seemed to be listening in on them. "Indiscriminate use of magic is not the answer."

"Are you sure?" Muraki snatched one of the fuda peeking out of Tsuzuki's breast pocket. He squinted at the cryptic writing, then waved it in the air like a conductor with a baton. "Attack! Destroy this place!" he said loudly.

Apart from attracting the attention of more bemused passers-by, nothing else happened.

"Give it back!" Tsuzuki made a grab for it, but Muraki closed his fist around it first.

"Why doesn't it work? You must teach me how to use this, Tsuzuki-san."

"It's my fuda, you idiot! Only I can activate my fuda! If you want to play with fuda, get your own!"

Tsuzuki lunged. Muraki dodged, but not fast enough. They hit the store window together with a loud thud.

Inside, two sales assistants looked up from behind the counter.

"I've never seen anything like it," one said to the other. "Two grown men fighting in broad daylight."

"You should have let the dark-haired man in. If he had bought some sweets, maybe he wouldn't be fighting with his boyfriend. He did look so cute when he was begging outside."

"He didn't have any money on him," the first assistant said. "He just had these weird bits of paper."

"How can you be so mean-spirited? Look at them: they are both so handsome! It's sad when couples fight over little things. And they're attracting so much attention! I've never seen so many people looking at our shop! Maybe it will boost business."

"Maybe it will drive everyone away. The sooner we get rid of them, the better." The first assistant unlocked the door and popped her head outside. "Stop fighting out there! If you break our window, you'll be liable for damages."

Both men turned, flushed and gasping for breath, their faces inches apart. Tsuzuki clutched Muraki's throat in a convulsive stranglehold. One of Muraki's hands was clenched in Tsuzuki's hair, while the other remained closed in a fist by his side.

For a moment, the assistant had the strangest feeling she was interrupting something much more intimate than a lovers' quarrel.

"Are you open yet?" Tsuzuki snapped. His violet-black eyes glittered like the eyes of a starving beast.

"No...not yet." She cringed behind the door, unnerved by his ferocity. He had appeared so goofy and silly a few minutes ago.

Muraki smiled. "Please let us enter your charming store to buy some of your delicious sweets. We regret any inconvenience we may have caused you in our eagerness to sample your wares, but we come to you as dedicated connoisseurs."

He uncurled his fist, palm up, to reveal three 10,000 yen notes.

"Why, of course!" She threw the door open. "Please do come in, both of you! We are always willing to accommodate the needs of our customers!"

"You are most kind," Muraki said to her. He turned back to Tsuzuki and placed the notes in his hand. "Fuda aren't the only pieces of paper with influence, ne?"

Tsuzuki gawked at him. "How did you do that? How did you transform the fuda..." His eyes narrowed. "It's up your sleeve, isn't it? A sleight of hand."

"A magician never reveals the secrets behind his tricks."

Annoyance warred with grudging admiration. Tsuzuki used such tricks himself, so he knew how difficult it could be. Muraki's technique was good, but he'd never admit it out loud. Muraki's vanity was inflated enough without him feeding it further.

Muraki straightened the lapels of Tsuzuki's coat, then adjusted his own coat so that it sat perfectly in place on his shoulders. "Now I have to go. Be sure to come early this evening. We must have dinner together."

"You aren't coming in? But what about your change?"

"The pleasure of your company is worth any price." Muraki waved a dismissive hand as he walked off. "Spend it as you wish. Consider it recompense for the missing sweets."

"But it's far too much--"

"Then spend it on yourself. Or return the change to me over dinner, if it matters so much to you."

Thirty thousand yen. Tsuzuki couldn't remember the last time he'd been trusted with so much money. What was he going to do with it? And why was Muraki being so generous? Did he have some ulterior motive?

The welcoming aroma of cakes and sweets wafted from the open door, but Tsuzuki resisted its mouth-watering allure to watch Muraki saunter along the street. His white coat swung around him as he moved. The morning breeze tousled his silver hair. Pedestrians moved aside to let him pass, awed by his self-possession and aura of cool untouchability. He looked like a man who wanted for nothing, and needed no one.

Tsuzuki stood still, remembering how Muraki had clutched him and growled his name last night. Now it was morning, and Muraki didn't look back once.

"Please come in!" the assistant called out. "Our first batch is ready now. We have manju, kasutera, and seasonal namagashi available."

"Coming!" Clutching the notes in one velvet-clad hand, Tsuzuki turned away and went inside the store.

xxxxx


	11. Feeding time

30/9/04 - minor corrections made (thanks to Mashou no Tenshi!)

Big thanks to Gengkotsuya and Demonprist :)

And thanks to those who've commented and made it this far. I know it's long and confusing...and I do apologise for that. I'm amazed that it's blown out like this. It's Muraki's fault.

xxxxx

Morning tea at the Shoukanka was not for the faint-hearted. There was never enough food to go around, and one needed luck and determination to snare the last cookie or sweet or slice of cake. Childish temper tantrums, whining and tears were common tactics used by the more greedy Shinigami. Even all-out brawls were not unheard of, but these seldom took place in Tatsumi's presence. With his iron-grip over the accounts, Tatsumi silenced squabbles with the dreaded threat of a salary cut.

But today the conference room was abuzz with goodwill and friendly camaraderie, for there were more than enough confections to spare. Six beautiful boxes, emblazoned with colourful flowers and tied with ribbon, rested on the main table. Gushoshin Elder floated about, setting the crockery and cutlery on the table. His younger brother measured out fragrant leaves to prepare the tea. Tatsumi and Hisoka worked together to prepare the sweets for serving, for they were regarded as the only two Shinigami with the self-restraint required to resist gobbling the delicacies for themselves. Hisoka put together the monaka by spreading bean paste between sticky rice wafers shaped like flowers. Tatsumi unwrapped yokan jellies and suiko and placed them on dainty white serving plates. Then the kasutera needed to be sliced, and the manju buns unwrapped from their protective paper wrapping.

Tsuzuki watched them as he sat on one of the chairs and sipped a mug of bitter black coffee. They worked side by side in harmony, their movements controlled and measured as their personalities. Apart from an occasional query by Hisoka and a murmur of approval from Tatsumi, they didn't require the wasted energy of speech. Did he and Hisoka ever work together in such harmony during their years together?

Tsuzuki tried to scratch an itchy spot between his shoulder blades as he pondered the question. If there was such a time, he couldn't remember it. He stifled a yawn. Surely no one would notice if he closed his eyes for a little while. He pulled out his dark sunglasses and put them on.

Watari was too excited to sit still. He paced around the table, long hair flying about him as he clutched his hands together. "I...I don't know what to say. I've never seen so many sweets before in my life!" Unable to resist, he lightly touched the powdery surface of a bright pink manju bun. "Waaah! It's still warm from the oven!"

"Watari-san!" Gushoshin Elder slapped his hand away. "We haven't started serving yet!"

Watari licked his fingers. "Delicious. Hurry up and serve them now!"

"Stop being so greedy. Wait your turn like everyone else."

"Hey! Show some gratitude to the person responsible for this feast!"

"It was Tsuzuki who bought them, not you!"

"But I gave him the money. Isn't that right, Tsuzuki?"

Tsuzuki lounged in his chair, arms and legs akimbo, his head lolling against the backrest. A soft snore left his parted lips.

"Tsuzuki? Hey, Tsuzuki!"

Tsuzuki didn't stir.

Watari shook his shoulder. "Tsuzuki! Wake up."

Tsuzuki jumped to his feet so fast he knocked his chair over. "Where is it?" he snapped. "Where's it coming from?" He fumbled for the breast pocket of his non-existent trenchcoat until he remembered - it was hanging over the back of the chair in his office, exactly where he left it every morning he came to work.

"It's okay, Tsuzuki," Watari reassured him. "The cakes are all here. No one's eaten your share yet."

Tsuzuki lifted his glasses and looked around to get his bearings. Conference room. Morning tea. No fireballs or creepy white kitten. He needed to get a grip. "Sorry. You gave me a shock." He folded the glasses away, picked up his chair and sat back down. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

"It can't be work that's tiring you," Terazuma challenged from across the table. "Kyushu is always quiet. If you want to know what real work is, you should see the tricky cases we have in Chugoku--"

"Hajime-chan!" Wakaba scolded as she sat down beside him, her curly hair bouncing with her movements. "Must you talk about work all the time? Why don't you make yourself useful and get me a cup of tea, please?"

"But that's the Gushoshin's job--"

"But you know how to make it exactly as I like it." A dimple appeared on each of her rosy cheeks as she smiled at him. "Please, Hajime-chan?"

Terazuma turned red at the feminine attention. He stumbled to his feet in his haste to get away. "Ahhh...okay, Kannuki. Only for you."

"Amazing," Watari murmured, momentarily distracted from the thought of food. "She has him well and truly curled around her finger."

Tsuzuki nodded. "No doubt he fears the consequences of disobedience. For such a young girl, Wakaba-chan is well versed in the art of feminine persuasion."

"Poor Hajime-chan. He gets so obsessed with work that he forgets how to unwind and have a normal conversation." She smiled at Tsuzuki. "So, where did you purchase these sweets? If I'd known you were organising this, I could have taken you to the confection shops in Hiroshima. Some of them are the best in Japan!"

"That's kind of you, Wakaba-chan, but this was a spur-of-the-moment idea. I wanted to surprise everyone."

"It's more than a surprise. It's a dream come true!" Watari hugged Tsuzuki from behind, almost throttling him in his enthusiasm. "I never imagined you'd buy so much. You're the best friend ever, Tsuzuki! What can I do to return the favour?"

With his nostrils choked by blond hair, Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. "Fix my...apartment...door."

Watari laughed loudly and squeezed harder. "Later, later. I only broke it because I was so concerned when you didn't turn up for work." He lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. "Gushoshin Elder threatened to ban me from the library if I didn't"

"Stop fighting, you two!" Gushoshin Elder placed a plate of yokan on the table. "If you're going to behave like children, play outside and leave the food for the rest of us!"

"Sorry, Gushoshin!" Watari released Tsuzuki and sat down, his expression contrite. "I was so carried away with happiness."

Tsuzuki massaged his throat, eyes watering. With friends like Watari, he didn't need an enemy like Muraki.

No, that wasn't true. No one touched him the way Muraki did. No one spoke his name the way Muraki did. Even now, he could imagine himself wrapped in Muraki's arms, writhing and gasping as his body was pushed so close to climax he could almost taste it...

Tsuzuki shifted in his seat, disturbed with his almost-instant physical response.

He tried to think back to the earlier events that night, but they swam before him like blurry images, a chaotic jumble of memories and half-forgotten fragments of conversation. A demonic attack with flames and flying fireballs. A fuda attack of flowing water.

Tsuzuki frowned. Odd. His attack fuda harnessed the elements of Earth and Fire to create animals that did his bidding and energy bolts to attack an enemy. But what he'd managed in Muraki's apartment - a true Water attack - was beyond his experience. He'd never achieved anything like that before.

_You must believe to succeed, Tsuzuki-san. I know you can do it._

But how could Muraki know, when Tsuzuki didn't? Two elements were regarded as the maximum number a fuda master could call on. Early on in his training, Tsuzuki had chosen Fire and Earth. They shared a harmonious relationship, enabling him to call them forth when required for a fuda attack.

Water wasn't supposed to be available to him. Element theory dictated that Water controlled Fire, and was in turn controlled by Earth. Water's antagonistic relationship to the other two precluded him from calling on it. So how did he successfully harness Water to do his bidding?

"Here you are, Watari-san." Gushoshin Younger poured out a cup of tea, using a small strainer to catch the leaves. "Now, Tsuzuki-san, what would you like? Green, chrysanthemum or earl grey?"

"Green tea, thank you." He watched as the bird spirit carefully placed the strainer over his cup and lifted the pot. "Are you feeling better today?"

"Much better. But I still don't remember what happened the day before. Did I really drink so much? I usually have a strong stomach for sake."

"We drank quite a lot at dinner. Even my memory is a bit fuzzy." Tsuzuki laughed and shrugged it off. "But I know what we ate then is nowhere near as mouth-watering as what we're having this morning!"

Tatsumi appeared at his side, a warm smile on his face as he played the part of the perfect host. "Kasutera for you, Watari-san. And what would you like, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki smiled cheerfully up at him. "A white manju, please! But where's the Chief? He wouldn't want to miss this, would he?"

"He's still in a meeting with DaiOh-sama, but it should be finishing shortly. I'm sure he will join us soon. Kasutera is his favourite, after all."

Hisoka carried a three-tiered serving plate crammed with cakes and jellies to the table, followed by two more plates piled with a small mountain of suiko and yokan. "I don't know how we're going to eat all this. There are still three other boxes we haven't opened yet."

"Bon! How can you say such a thing?" Watari demanded. "Take it back at once!"

"Of course we can eat it! We can meet this challenge!" Terazuma agreed loudly as he returned to the table. He set down Wakaba's cup of tea with a loud clatter, spilling a little onto the saucer. "You of all people should be eating the most!" he told Hisoka. "To improve one's skill with the bow, one must cultivate a strong body as well as a strong spirit. How can you strengthen your body if you don't eat?"

"And there's still lunch and afternoon tea as well," Wakaba piped up.

Hisoka looked at them all as if they were mad. "But too many sweets are bad--"

"Don't mind them," Tsuzuki whispered as he pulled out a chair and winked at him. "Shinigami are extremely protective when it comes to food. To interfere with a Shinigami's food is considered a serious offence."

"Oh. I thought it was only you who behaved like that."

Tsuzuki grinned at him. "Well, now you know. They're just as bad."

"Yes, afternoon tea!" Watari cried out. "That reminds me" He grabbed Tatsumi's sleeve as he returned to the table with Tsuzuki's manju bun. "Tatsumi, please can we have afternoon tea under the sakura?"

"No, Watari-san, I'm afraid not."

"Why not? It's such a beautiful day outside. I bet if the Chief were here he'd agree with me."

"No, I wouldn't, Watari." Chief Konoe entered the conference room, his features grim. "The problem with having afternoon tea outside is that no one ever remembers to come back _inside_ to finish off their work. Where is the kasutera?"

"Here you are." Tatsumi deftly placed a small sponge cake before him. "How was the meeting?"

"The usual," Konoe muttered darkly. Even the plates piled high with sweets failed to lift his spirits, a bad sign indeed. He glanced Tsuzuki's way. "Hmmph. So you brought morning tea after all?"

"Yes, and Watari was generous enough to foot the bill!"

"High time you remembered to do one of the things I ask of you. But it doesn't excuse all the other times you forgot!"

"I promise to do better next time, Chief!"

With everyone working in the Shoukanka present, they all sat down to enjoy morning tea. Even the reluctant Hisoka nibbled on a chrysanthemum-shaped monaka.

Tsuzuki picked up his manju with his fingertips, unashamedly defying etiquette. It was the best way to appreciate the fine powdery surface. The sweet was shaped in a perfect white sphere, as pale as Muraki's skin. He bent forward and sniffed it. His mouth watered as the aroma of adzuki beans filled his nostrils.

He opened his mouth and allowed his lips to brush the surface. It was warm from the oven, with a slight saltiness that reminded Tsuzuki of human flesh. Closing his eyes, he bared his teeth and slowly bit into it. The surface yielded easily, the texture soft and stretchy yet resilient.

With his tongue, he licked the powdered surface, savouring the hint of salt again. He imagined it was Muraki's throat against his mouth, warm and alive and deliciously edible. His jaw trembled as he resisted the urge to rip it open. Muraki was human, his skin fragile. His flesh needed to be treated with care, using gentle nips instead of ravenous bites.

But it was so easy to forget Muraki's physical limitations when they were together in bed. Muraki bit and scratched with a desperate possessiveness that stirred something within Tsuzuki, demanding he return the favour in kind. For one fleeting instance last night, Tsuzuki even wanted to bare his teeth, and devour Muraki's long pale throat. To consume the man completely, bite by bite: his throat, his shoulders...every inch of his beautiful white body...

Tsuzuki shivered, excited and disgusted in equal measure.

He bit cleanly through the chewy shell, his teeth sinking into the bean paste filling. The sweetness filled his mouth, an explosion of flavour that would have made him swoon with delight once. But now...

He chewed with mechanical precision and swallowed it down. In his hands, the white outer layer was torn open. The sweet dark red paste oozed out like coagulated blood.

It wasn't Muraki, but it would have to do.

xxxxx

Beside him, Hisoka froze for a moment. He blinked, a haunted expression in his eyes, before returning to eat his monaka.

From his seat at the far end of the table, Tatsumi ate nothing. He merely sipped his tea and watched them both.

xxxxx

Precisely twenty minutes later, as timed by the Shoukanka's secretary, morning tea was over.

The Gushoshin were impatient to return to the library and work further on their demon database, so they were excused from tidying up. But the other Shinigami couldn't escape. Terazuma and Wakaba washed the plates, while Watari dried and packed away the utensils. Tsuzuki was given the task of packing away the remaining cakes and cleaning the conference table.

Hisoka offered to help, but Tatsumi let him off.

"Your services are not required, Kurosaki-kun. You've already helped a great deal this morning. Have you had the opportunity to find that book I told you about?"

"No, not yet."

"Visit the library now and borrow it." Although spoken as an order, Tatsumi's voice was indulgent and warm. "It is an old text but it provides an excellent introduction to the basic technique of shadow summoning. When the Gushoshin are engrossed in research, they are slow to perform basic tasks such as book loans and enquiries. But if you catch them before they get started, they will be more willing to assist you."

"Thank you, Tatsumi-san." Hisoka bowed. "I'll do it right now."

Tsuzuki watched covertly as he stacked the used plates and cutlery. They kept a safe distance from each other, taking care not to invade the other's personal space. They didn't laugh or tease; they spoke in quiet, measured tones meant for each other alone. They even avoided eye contact: Hisoka preferred to look at the floor, only lifting his gaze when he thanked Tatsumi for his help.

Tatsumi wasn't troubled by this. On the contrary, it gave him more opportunity to admire Hisoka's fluffy chestnut brown hair.

Although their behaviour was proper for a junior worker and his superior, it struck Tsuzuki as painfully formal, even for them. And yet, it was familiar as well. The way Tatsumi's gaze followed Hisoka to the door...

Tsuzuki lowered his own eyes. _Regret is a useless emotion._ "So how did the lesson go last night?" he asked. "Does he show promise?"

"It's too early to say. But he does have remarkable mental focus for his age." Tatsumi began pulling back the chairs from the table. Because of the funding cuts, everyone had to pitch in to help clean the offices. "No doubt this is a result of his martial arts training. It will serve him well in learning kagetsu."

"That's great! I'm sure he'll do well." Tsuzuki paused, his hands running over the edge of a cake box. "You won't keep him up too late, will you? He'll never admit it, but he does tire easily."

"I'll keep that in mind, Tsuzuki-san. Speaking of sleep..." Tatsumi looked at him with piercing blue eyes. "How has yours been lately?"

"I could always do with more, but I'm fine." He began placing the leftover yokan together on one plate.

"Are you sure? You dozed off in your chair."

Tsuzuki laughed in embarrassment. "You know what I'm like. I normally don't get here till nine or ten, but I set my alarm clock for the crack of dawn so I could buy these cakes before work. I guess my body is still adjusting to the time difference."

Tatsumi's fingers tightened over the chair he held. "What about your nightmares?"

"They're gone now," Tsuzuki said quietly. Which was true.

"I see." Tatsumi remained still for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more. Then, thinking better of it, he went to the small cupboard in one corner of the room. With a brush and dustpan, he bent down to sweep the food crumbs from the floor.

Slowly Tsuzuki placed the remaining manju in the cake box, except for one white bun. This he wrapped in a napkin and hid in his trouser pocket. "Tatsumi, about Hisoka..."

"What?" Tatsumi's voice was muffled as he worked under the table.

Tsuzuki hesitated, unsure of how to begin. "He may act aloof and cold, but he's always wanted someone to guide and support him...but not just anyone. He needs someone he respects."

Tatsumi stood up slowly, one eyebrow raised. "Do you mean a father figure?"

"Well, a mentor rather than a father."

Tatsumi emptied the dustpan in the trash, then returned it and the brush to the cupboard with his customary neatness. "Well, there is always the Chief--"

"The Chief is old enough to be his grandfather. He needs someone closer to his age."

Tatsumi blinked and lifted his glasses up his nose, looking almost owlish as he considered this problem. "But there is no one here around Hisoka's age. Unless you mean Wakaba, but she's fe--"

"Tatsumi!" Tsuzuki didn't know whether to laugh or cry at Tatsumi's denseness. "I mean you!"

"Me?" Tatsumi stepped back, horrified. "But I know nothing about children--"

"He isn't a child. I know he looks like one, but in chronological years he's an adult now. Working as a Shinigami makes one grow up very quickly. But deep inside...he's not as confident as he makes himself out to be. He still needs the help of someone older to guide him." Tsuzuki smiled warmly at Tatsumi. "You know it. You wouldn't have offered to teach him kagetsu otherwise, ne?"

Tatsumi looked uncomfortable. "Kurosaki-kun told me his concerns about invading privacy because of his empathic powers. All I did was offer him a solution--"

Tsuzuki wasn't fooled for a moment. "Really?"

Tatsumi turned away, his back ramrod straight. "I...I'm not seeking to replace you as his partner. I am perfectly satisfied with my current position as secretary."

"I know." Tsuzuki touched his forearm to reassure him. "I know what you're doing, and I'm grateful to you for it."

"You...you are?" There was a touching note of tentativeness in his voice.

Tsuzuki nodded. "In some ways...I think the two of you would have made a better team. The expense account would never be overdrawn. You would get reports done well before deadline. And I know you would both have fewer disagreements." For a moment, Tsuzuki's eyes were bleak, then it cleared as he smiled again. "He's like you in so many ways. You're both good at guarding your hearts, and presenting a stoic face to the world. The only problem is - like everything else you set your mind to - you became too good at it."

Tatsumi didn't smile back as he touched Tsuzuki's cheek. "I failed you twice over, didn't I? I couldn't help ease your pain, and then when it became too much--"

"Oh, Tatsumi." Tsuzuki's voice was soft with exasperated affection. "You can't help yourself, can you? Stop taking responsibility for everything." He hugged Tatsumi tightly. "You deserve someone strong in spirit, not a burden on your conscience."

"You were never that," Tatsumi murmured. He lifted his arms awkwardly to embrace Tsuzuki's waist. "Never that."

Tsuzuki smiled into Tatsumi's shoulder. Even after all they had been through, Tatsumi remained good to him - the mark of a true friend. "While you're there, could you scratch my back for me?" he teased. "There's a spot I can't quite reach, and it's driving me mad."

"I suppose I could," Tatsumi replied with a smile in his voice. "Just this once."

Unnoticed by either man, Watari and Chief Konoe gaped in astonishment from the half-open door. Having come back to grab a few more cakes for later, this was the last thing they expected to find. After staring for a good five seconds, they quietly shut the door and scurried down the corridor.

"Such unprofessional conduct," Konoe muttered. "I knew they were close once, but I thought they were finished ages ago."

"It's one of those on-again, off-again relationships. The minute Tsuzuki overdraws his expense account, Tatsumi will go crazy and break it off. Then he'll feel guilty, so they get back together and repeat the cycle over again." Watari shrugged. "Masochists."

xxxxx

Later that morning, Tsuzuki paid a visit to Watari's laboratory. He found his friend hunched over the computer terminal, 003 perched on his head.

"Hey, Watari! Have you had a chance to work on the anagram?"

"What?" Watari didn't lift his eyes from the screen.

"The anagram, remember?" Tsuzuki looked at the lab bench piled with papers and books. It looked even more disordered than he remembered from his last visit, with a few pieces of paper threatening to fall to the floor. The tallest stack of books tilted to one side in a miniature version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Just one little push would surely send it tumbling. "Did you even manage to find it?"

"Empty desk, empty mind," Watari replied airily. "At least I spend time _in_ my office, unlike others who act the playboy and break the hearts of his workmates with indiscriminate flirting!"

"Huh? What the... what are you talking about?"

"Don't pretend with me! First the Gushoshin, now the secretary--"

"It's not like that! You know we're just friends." Tsuzuki took refuge in counterattack. "Remember, you're the one who bashes down people's doors without asking! You're the one who blatantly invades the privacy of others!"

Watari sniffed. "Next time find a less conspicuous place than the conference room. I wasn't even trying that time." He pulled a creased piece of paper out of his lab coat pocket. "I've deciphered these parts." He circled the top and bottom parts. "These seem to correspond to numbers: 3 on the top, and 22 on the bottom. They're written as Roman numerals. It's still used occasionally in modern times too, but it's been overtaken by Hindu-Arabic as the most popular numeric system."

"Numbers?" Tsuzuki repeated. "Could it be a time? A date?"

"Maybe, but the year is missing," Watari pointed out.

Tsuzuki looked at it, thinking hard. _Nagasaki Full Moon._ March 22nd was several months ago. Did something significant happen on that date? But what? And in which year? Perhaps a time was more likely. "What about this middle part here?"

Watari scratched his head. "I still have to work that out. Assuming that it's written in the same context as the numbers, I'm guessing it's an ancient language like Latin...but who knows? The characters are so tightly compressed. Are you sure that's how you remember it?"

"I'm sure." Tsuzuki touched his chest, remembering how the bright red anagram had adorned his body.

"Well, I'll keep working on it." He cast Tsuzuki a curious look. "Can you tell me how the anagram appeared to you? You said it was in a dream, right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"If I knew the circumstances in which it appeared, it might give me a clue to deciphering it."

Tsuzuki shifted uneasily. "It was written in blood on a naked body."

"So it's a curse or warning of some sort. Okay, leave it with me, and I'll keep searching."

"Thank you." For all his annoying habits, Watari was another good friend. Tsuzuki felt almost ashamed to ask him for more. "Umm...did you manage to ask the Gushoshin about demons who have taken on feline form?"

"Oh, yes. I forgot to mention it. They found a few using the database they have so far. I printed them out for you." He pulled open a drawer and took out a twenty-page document. "There you go!"

Tsuzuki goggled at the size of it. The names were arranged in three columns and written in small print. "Have all these demons appeared as white cats?"

"Felines are the most popular animal form for demons to use," Watari told him. "I asked the Gushoshin about restricting the search according to colour, but they told me such information was sketchy because of observer bias and variable viewing conditions. They recommended searching for all cats."

"Oh." So many names, so little time. It would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. But at least it was better than nothing. "Thanks so much for your help, Watari."

"No problem. Are you going to tell me more about this case you're working on? After all the help I've given you, surely you can let me in on it?" Watari grabbed Tsuzuki's arm and looked up at him with wide brown puppy-dog eyes. "Please? The curiosity is eating at me!"

"Later, later." Tsuzuki laughed as he extricated himself. "When I find out more, you'll be the first to know. I better get back to my office and help Hisoka with the paperwork. See you!"

Watari waved him off with the same good cheer. "See you!"

The moment Tsuzuki was out the door, Watari sat back in his chair, arms folded. Tsuzuki said he wasn't on a case, but Watari knew that something was up. He appeared distracted, distant - at times he seemed to be in another world. What was he thinking about? Was he still worrying about the events in Kyoto?

Watari knew Tsuzuki wasn't the type of person to open up easily. Despite his easygoing and friendly manner, he preferred to keep his issues close to his chest instead of troubling others. Even as a close friend, Watari realised that there were some things Tsuzuki would never ever reveal to any of them. But it hurt a little, knowing that Tsuzuki kept so much from him.

003 flew to the top of the computer screen to study Watari's face. It puffed out its chest at him, as if trying to make itself bigger than it really was.

"I do understand, 003," he said to the owl. "I don't hold it against him. I'm the same way too, huh?"

003 fluttered to Watari's shoulder and nuzzled his cheek.

Watari scratched the owl's neck. "Never mind. He asked me to solve this anagram, right? As a friend, I will do my best to help him."

xxxxx

Hisoka was still at the library when Tsuzuki returned to their office. Sunlight streamed through the open window, and a light breeze stirred the curtains. Hisoka's in-tray was empty, and his desk was neat and ordered. No new paperwork to do. Good. It was going to be a quiet day.

Tsuzuki sat down at his own desk, and looked at the list of demons again. Most of the names weren't familiar to him - he wasn't even sure how to pronounce half of them. There were symbols next to each one denoting their status in the demon hierarchy, but Tsuzuki knew such information was subject to change without notice. Ashitarote did not tolerate insubordination, and those who challenged his authority were swiftly demoted.

_A despot must always be on the lookout for potential rivals in his midst if he is to maintain his grip on power._

Tsuzuki rubbed his forehead. No doubt it would be true for demons, beings notorious for their vanity and petty squabbling. But why say such things about EnmaDaiOh?

DaiOh-sama was no despot. On the contrary, despite Tsuzuki's horrific personal history in the land of the living, DaiOh-sama had employed him as a Shinigami, given him his supernatural powers and enabled him to find his shikigami.

Thanks to DaiOh-sama, he felt useful for the first time in his existence.

Tsuzuki watched the sakura trees outside as they swayed, scattering their pale pink blossoms to the ground. Such a beautiful sight only occurred once a year in the land of the living, but in Meifu this vision was made eternal. This wondrous place was his home, thanks to DaiOh-sama.

The debt of gratitude Tsuzuki owed him could never be repaid in full. Serving as a Shinigami was merely a token recompense for all DaiOh-sama had done for him.

_Without DaiOh-sama, I am nothing._

Tsuzuki stroked his watchband, remembering the legacy of his past life, the one he had been so desperate to escape. If Muraki thought a few disparaging comments would shake his loyalty and confidence in Enma, then he truly was mad.

But maybe he could gain insight into Muraki's objectives by listening to his ramblings. It would be an easy enough task - like all egomaniacs, Muraki loved the sound of his own voice.

And it wouldn't be that arduous either. There were moments last night when he didn't mind Muraki's voice at all. The throaty way he murmured 'Tsuzuki-san'...

The memory sent a shiver along Tsuzuki's spine.

Impatiently he rose to his feet and picked up his trenchcoat. One of the pockets rustled with fuda, and the other with yen notes. He flicked through the notes: 20,000 yen left.

What to do with so much money? Give it back? Keep it for himself?

Muraki didn't seem to care either way.

Wait a moment. Why _should_ he return it? Muraki deserved to pay for the food he stole, and Tsuzuki knew he could buy many things with 20,000 yen. He could gorge himself on crab and lobster and abalone and fugu and many other delicacies. He could buy more sweets for his own private consumption. He could go on a feeding frenzy and eat all the foods he'd denied himself during his life...

But he wasn't hungry for food. The manju he'd pilfered earlier remained untouched in his trouser pocket.

Tsuzuki took it out. The chewy casing was a little dented, but there were no cracks marking its white surface. As long as he handled it with care, it would remain intact.

He caressed it and licked his fingers. Delicious. Carefully he placed it in his breast pocket before he gave into temptation and gobbled it there and then. He didn't believe in delaying physical gratification, but there was another hunger slithering inside, demanding priority.

It was already lunchtime. Tsuzuki routinely went out to eat. With nothing happening in the Shoukanka and Kyushu quiet, he wouldn't be required for the rest of the afternoon. Watari was busy in the lab as always. Tatsumi was in his office, probably tearing his hair out over the accounts. Hisoka was in the library reading in preparation for his next kagetsu lesson with Tatsumi.

Insidious images filled his mind: Tatsumi embracing Hisoka with the shadows, cocooning him from fear and shame, holding him close as he whispered gentle words of reassurance to dull the pain...

The pang of jealousy surged within Tsuzuki, surprising him with its intensity. Where did it come from? Why now? His feelings for either of them had never been so proprietorial before. They were his friends and family, and that wasn't about to change. This fierce sense of loss was absurd.

And oddly enough, the strange itch between his shoulder blades had returned to annoy him again.

Tsuzuki shook his head to clear it. Crazy. It was all the more reason for him to leave early. He knew how to satiate his hunger, and with whom.

He quickly put on his trenchcoat. "It's no use," he said to Hisoka's empty chair. "It's safer this way, for you and me." He slid the velvet gloves on his hands and buckled the cuffs.

_For what I am about to do, please forgive..._

He disappeared into nothingness, leaving behind a deserted sunlit office.

xxxxx

It was sunny in Nagasaki as well. In Muraki's penthouse apartment, the vertical blinds in the living room were pulled back, flooding the room with blinding light. Without trees or nearby buildings to block the view of the city, there was no way to avoid the sun on a clear summer day.

Muraki didn't mind in the slightest. He sat on his lounge chair, drenched in sunlight, his elbows resting on his knees. The cuffs of his white shirt were unbuttoned and folded up to the elbow, exposing his pale skin. The top two buttons of his shirt were also undone, revealing his collarbone and the long column of his throat. His gaze was downcast, silver hair obscuring his eyes from view as he concentrated on the piles of playing cards laid out on the coffee table - a game of Solitaire.

Cloaked by invisibility, Tsuzuki leaned against the window, his arms folded. This was the first time he'd taken the time to observe Muraki in daylight. The harsh brightness cast shadows that emphasised the hollows of his cheeks and the lines bracketing his mouth. The tendons and muscles of his forearms were clearly delineated beneath his pale, almost translucent skin.

Tsuzuki couldn't believe it. Was Muraki usually this pale and skeletal-looking? As a Shinigami, he'd seen corpses who looked in better shape.

Muraki turned the cards over, his movements slow and methodical. Apart from a frown at a particular card that displeased him, he showed no other overt emotion.

Weird. Why wasn't he summoning demons or killing people or visiting former patients...or communing with the demon with whom he'd made his alliance - this demon who wanted 'to experience what it is like to be human'...or so Muraki had said.

Muraki shifted a few cards from one pile to another, turned over others, and frowned again.

Tsuzuki mused on this. Demons thrived on the loss and corruption of humanity. Powerful negative emotions were their favourite source of nourishment. Dead bodies were an added bonus, but not necessary for feeding - immaterial beings did not need matter for survival. Smaller demons were opportunistic feeders, absorbing the emotions generated in natural catastrophes and disasters. Larger, more powerful demons preferred to engineer such scenarios for their own amusement and pleasure.

So a demon wanting to experience the human condition...the idea beggared belief. A demon with empathy? Impossible. Demons rejoiced in human grief and depravity.

Tsuzuki froze. Was that what Muraki's kitten was doing? The way it watched everything he and Muraki did together...was this how it fed? With each assignation between them, it could freely indulge in a maelstrom of violent emotions: anger, greed, violence, lust.

Tsuzuki looked around the room. Where was it? If his hypothesis were true, it should be

"Meow!" The kitten stood at his feet, looking up at him as if awaiting his command.

Tsuzuki jerked in surprise. He'd concentrated so much on Muraki he hadn't noticed its approach. But as established from their first meeting, the feline's vision was immune to the invisibility spell. The mark of a creature with great power.

Muraki's gaze flicked to the kitten. "Come sit with me. It's bad manners to stare." He began gathering up the cards. "Let's play a more challenging game."

Tsuzuki knew Muraki's censure applied to his behaviour too - but he didn't move from the window or break the spell. He wanted to observe Muraki a little longer.

The feline waited for Tsuzuki, its ears pricked expectantly. When Tsuzuki didn't appear, it lifted its head and prowled back to the lounge.

Muraki split the deck of cards and riffled them together. "During my training, I discovered that my hands possessed a natural tremor." He held his outstretched hand in front of him to demonstrate. "Our muscles twitch a little, even when we are still. My tremor became worse when I was nervous or exhausted, something I experienced on a regular basis while on-call."

Tsuzuki frowned. From where he was standing a few feet away, he couldn't see a tremor. By Muraki's side, the kitten looked as well.

"I despised myself for it." Muraki put his hand down, and picked up two cards. "How could I be a surgeon if my hands were so feeble? What if I inadvertently sliced a nerve or blood vessel because of my weakness? I did everything I could to cure myself. I tried drugs, meditation, acupuncture - even prayer - without success. I realised then I had to adapt myself to live with it." He balanced the cards on the table so they stood on their side, then used a third card to support the other two. His long fingers supported the three cards, adjusting them as they threatened to fall and dislodge each other.

When he let go, the cards stood end to end to form the outline of an equilateral triangle.

"I tested myself by constructing houses of cards. Like this."

He took three more cards from the pack. Slowly he balanced them on top of the first three to form another triangle. Then he did the same with another three cards, and three more. A four-tiered tower of cards stood proudly on the table.

Tsuzuki moved closer, fascinated. It took skill to balance them without the use of magic. Muraki's fingers were outstretched, seeking to balance the cards each time and control any stray movements. His eyes were narrowed as he watched the cards, intent on his task. His fingers trembled ever so slightly.

"There." Muraki withdrew his hands. A tower with five tiers. "It gets more difficult from here." He took three more cards from the pack and began to balance them as well. "My tremor also becomes worse as the difficulty increases. It is as if my body betrays my will...as if it wants me to fail. Such is...the inherent weakness...of the human condition."

The span of his fingers supported the upper two levels, but the lower levels were beyond his reach. One infinitesimally small imbalance in the weight distribution would send everything tumbling.

The kitten's eyes never left Muraki's hands. Tsuzuki knelt in front of the coffee table to watch as well.

One of the cards on the second level tilted. Muraki quickly lowered his hand to support and adjust it, but it left the top layer exposed. One of the top cards began to fall.

Tsuzuki reacted without thinking. He halted the stray card with his gloved fingertips.

The kitten lashed its tail and meowed in approval.

Muraki's lips curved into a smile. "Thank you."

Tsuzuki withdrew his hand. Damn.

"I don't believe in miracles. If you're going to meddle in my affairs, then at least grant me the pleasure of your company as compensation."

There didn't seem to be any point in hiding. With a whispered word, Tsuzuki broke the cloaking spell.

Muraki withdrew his hands. The six-tiered tower of cards stood firm. "That's better." He studied Tsuzuki over the top of the cards. "Good afternoon, Tsuzuki-san. You granted my request by coming early today. Thank you."

"It was quiet at the Shoukanka." Tsuzuki rose to his feet awkwardly and straightened his coat.

"And you wear my gloves." Muraki smiled fondly at him. "I am honoured to know my gift pleases you."

Tsuzuki flushed. "I wear these for..." _For your safety?_ He could hardly say it aloud. "...for convenience."

"A sensible practice. Your profession and mine are alike in this respect - our hands are our tools. We must take good care of them." He held out one hand to Tsuzuki. The sunlight accentuated the prominent bones and the hollows of wasted muscles. "Come sit."

"What's happening to you? Why are you so thin?"

"Why, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki brushed a strand of silver hair behind his ear. "You actually sound concerned about me. How touching."

"You look terrible." Tsuzuki glanced at the kitchen. No plates or cups in the sink, or the rack nearby. "Have you eaten lunch?"

Muraki blinked. "No."

"Well, you should." Tsuzuki went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was empty, the shelves bare. So was the freezer. The cupboards were empty too. "Why isn't there any food? Don't tell me you eat out all the time."

"Food is not what I require for sustenance," Muraki said from behind.

"Huh?" Tsuzuki shut the cupboard door and turned around. "What do you mean? Everyone needs food." He remembered the manju he'd brought with him. "Wait. I have something here."

Muraki's gaze glittered, his eyes overbright like a man in the grip of a fever. "A familiar must feed from its master to survive. So must I feed from you." He reached out to grasp Tsuzuki's shoulders. "Please...I've fasted...humbled myself in preparation..."

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki stumbled away from him. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"_You_ are the one being ridiculous." Muraki's voice was quiet with repressed fury. "What more must I do? Must I shed my life's blood anew? Pour a flood of tears in repentance?"

"No!" Tsuzuki shook his head in vehement denial. "You never had to--"

"Should I prepare more human sacrifice? Or are there other atrocities I must commit in your name?" Muraki gripped the kitchen bench for support, his entire body trembling. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting for mastery over his anger. "Tell me," he murmured. "Tell me, and I will obey. I am--"

"Shut up! Enough of your lies!" Tsuzuki covered his ears to block out the damning words. "I am not responsible for your crimes! My hands are already bloodied..." His back itched again, this time worse than before. "...without adding yours..." He gasped aloud as it erupted into a burning pain that sizzled from each shoulder blade, along his back, to end above each hip.

"It hurts, ne? Now you know." Muraki chuckled to himself. "I should let you suffer as I have - leave you to your gilded prison. Treat you with the same indifference you have shown me."

Tsuzuki ripped off his trenchcoat. Was this a curse? An attack? He turned around, but the only creature in the living room was the kitten. "You!" he snarled. "What is this?"

The kitten scrambled under the coffee table for refuge.

"Coward." Awkwardly Tsuzuki pulled his shirt out of his trousers and felt his back with one hand. The skin was smooth, unmarked...and ultra-sensitive to touch. "What's happening?" He groaned as another burning pain shot through him. He remembered this - the darkness seeking escape. "No...not again..."

Muraki took pity on him. "Let me help." He approached Tsuzuki with outstretched arms, lips twisted in an ironic smile.

"Go to hell." Tsuzuki began unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers fumbling in his desperation. A mark? A brand? He needed to see for himself.

"I'm already there, you fool." Muraki's mocking laughter rang in his ears, a terrible sound without humour or warmth. "Come join me." He yanked Tsuzuki's wrist and pulled him to the lounge chair. "I know how to ease this."

Tsuzuki tried to pull away, but doubled over as another burning pain shot through him. He half-fell, half-stumbled into Muraki's arms as they sat down together, so overcome he barely knew what he was doing. Having his torso ripped apart by an energy bolt didn't hurt half as much as this. "Why...?" A hopeless whimper left his throat as he buried his face against Muraki's shoulder. "I can't..."

"Hush." Muraki pulled up Tsuzuki's shirt and traced the path of burning skin with cool fingertips. "I filled you too soon, but you were so eager I couldn't resist." He pressed his lips against Tsuzuki's ear. "This is partly your own fault - the outcome of your selfishness."

"My fault?" The pain relented a little as Muraki leached it away with his touch. "How--"

Sharp nails dug into his left shoulder blade, tearing the flesh down to his waist.

Tsuzuki gasped and arched against him. It hurt, but it felt so good.

Muraki clawed at the right shoulder blade, then the left, and then the right again. His nails scored Tsuzuki's back repeatedly with bloody lacerations.

Tsuzuki leaned back, lips parted, eyes slitted as he luxuriated in the violent excoriations. Pain nullified pain, leaving an itchy-ticklish sensation that induced tremors of delight. This was exactly what he needed. His gloved fingers curled and shifted over Muraki's broad shoulders, soft velvet pressing against starched white linen, a gentler imitation of what Muraki inflicted on him.

"Mmm. So impatient." Muraki's voice was soft with affection, a jarring contrast to his touch. "It's not my time yet. Soon, I promise." He pulled Tsuzuki into a kiss. His mouth was warm as he drank, his tongue playfully sliding against Tsuzuki's as he sought to taste more. His hands flattened possessively against Tsuzuki's back, fingers outstretched as they slid over the rapidly healing skin. Only the stickiness of drying blood remained as evidence of his cruelty.

Tsuzuki felt dizzy. Now his body melted in pleasure, his muscles languid and heavy. He leaned closer, freely allowing Muraki to take what he sought. Muraki was salty-sweet, a mixture of flavours that intoxicated him.

The manju bun couldn't compare. He had to taste more.

Tsuzuki tore his lips away to press open-mouthed kisses against Muraki's throat. Smooth with a hint of damp perspiration. He allowed his teeth to graze it slightly, testing its firmness, enjoying the vibrations as Muraki growled his name again. But the taste here was too subtle for his liking.

His hands blindly sought the fly of Muraki's trousers.

"Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki's voice was thick with yearning. He spread his legs and lifted his hips to assist him. His blood-stained fingers tangled with Tsuzuki's gloved fingers as he fumbled with the zipper.

Tsuzuki slid to the floor to kneel between Muraki's legs, a worshipper before an idol. Their earlier argument was forgotten, the reason for his visit pushed aside. This terrible hunger was a yawning void inside him keening for fulfilment, deafening reason and logic with its incoherent cry. Tsuzuki roughly pulled at the clothing concealing his objective. Seizing the erection in one hand, he lowered his head and wrapped his lips around the sensitive crown.

Muraki shivered. A sensualist by nature, he was helpless to resist. He arched his hips instinctively, pushing himself deeper. But his long fingers wound into Tsuzuki's hair as he tried to limit the depth of his thrust.

Tsuzuki ignored him. He allowed the cock to brush the roof of his mouth, and lapped at the underside with his tongue. It jerked and hardened against his lips. The taste was richer here, more salty and earthy, the texture silk-smooth. Tsuzuki's mouth filled with saliva as he suckled and toyed with the shaft, carefully adjusting himself to accommodate its bulk and heft.

Muraki threw his head against the lounge, teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut. Every muscle was locked in tension. Not a sound left his lips.

Such willpower. How Tsuzuki longed to break it.

Twisting his head slightly, Tsuzuki let the crown brush the inside of his cheek and slide deeper to the back of his throat. He swallowed around it once, twice, then began sucking in earnest.

"You..." A growl left Muraki's throat. "Don't tempt me...ahh...no..." His fingers pulled Tsuzuki's hair to the point of pain.

But Tsuzuki didn't care. The male musk intoxicated him. Precome filled his mouth, a fascinating mixture of salty and bitter and other flavours too complex to identify. He gulped it down, trembling in anticipation. He needed to be gentle...but he wanted so much more.

Something hissed behind him. A small weight pounced on his back. Little claws pierced his flesh through his shirt. But in contrast to Muraki's scratches, this sent a flood of renewed agony pouring through his entire body. Tsuzuki jerked free, releasing Muraki's cock.

Muraki swore and grabbed the kitten by the scruff of its neck. His false eye glowed as he stared at it. "You are not to hurt him. Overstep your authority, and I swear I will--"

The kitten yowled loudly, its limbs scrabbling in mid-air.

Muraki's features became cold. "That is for me to decide, not you."

The feline yowled again and again, infuriated at such treatment.

Tsuzuki stumbled back up to sit on the lounge, gasping for breath. "This is crazy," he muttered. "First you, now your cat. If I were a true masochist, I could have gone to Hakushaku--"

"Quiet," Muraki snapped as he released the kitten. It landed on all fours, yowled again, and retreated to the window. Muraki glared at the creature, his breathing harsh. "You are not to think of others when you are here with me. I am to be the only person in your thoughts."

Tsuzuki shook his head, resisting the urge to laugh. "Your arrogance knows no bounds. Do you really believe you can tell me what to think? I'm not here to be your puppet, obedient to your every whim."

"I see." Muraki cast him a sidelong look. "But you know the type of person I am, yet you still visit me."

"You need help. Look at yourself. This demonic alliance of yours is a sham." The prominent bones were all too obvious in daylight. The creased white shirt only served to emphasise Muraki's bony angularity. "Your suffering is all part of its scheme. It will grant you power and offer you rewards beyond your dreams. But when it gets what it wants, all its promises will fall away like these cards." Tsuzuki reached a hand out to send the tower tumbling.

Muraki seized his wrist. "No." He roughly knocked the cards down himself, sending them flying across the table. "I finish what I start, for better or worse." He looked at Tsuzuki's gloved hand, trapped in his grip. "I do not tolerate interference from anyone."

"Even me?" Tsuzuki didn't bother to hide the mockery in his voice. "I thought you said you were mine."

"Even you." Muraki searched his face gravely for a long moment, then smiled. "But you're more than welcome to try. Providing I am blessed with the pleasure of your company, I will do my best to bear the inconvenience." He pressed a kiss to the velvet-clad palm and gently closed Tsuzuki's fingers around it.

Violent one moment, seductive the next. Tsuzuki doubted he'd ever be able to keep up with Muraki's mercurial shifts in mood. With the skill of a chameleon, he knew how to change his demeanour to suit his purpose.

"You need to eat," Tsuzuki said, his voice flat. He pulled his hand free, and took out the manju bun from his pocket. A single jagged split marred the white shell. Red adzuki bean paste oozed out, staining the napkin.

"You bought it this morning? They should have given you a box to carry it." Muraki began to tuck himself back into his trousers.

"You're right. They're more fragile than they look." Tsuzuki ripped the bun in two. "Here."

"It isn't what I--"

"Take it." Tsuzuki pushed half of it into his hands. "If you're going to play games with a demon, you need to take better care of yourself."

Muraki raised a quizzical brow, but took it anyway. He looked at it curiously for a moment. "He took bread and broke it," he murmured to himself.

"What?"

Muraki bowed his head. His silver hair glinted in the sunlight as it fell over his eyes. "Nothing."

They ate in silence on the lounge, foregoing the social niceties. Muraki had done his trousers up, but his shirt was still skewed crookedly over his chest. Tsuzuki didn't even bother buttoning up his shirt - Muraki had seen everything already.

The kitten climbed on the coffee table and meowed at them. Muraki sighed, and offered it the small piece he had left.

"Speaking of games, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki said, "have you ever played golf?"

Tsuzuki blinked at him. "No." It wasn't played in Japan when he was alive, and EnmaCho didn't have the funds to splurge on the extravagance of a golf course.

"It's a very pleasant outdoor activity - challenging, but not too vigorous. Today is the ideal weather for it. Why don't we play this afternoon? Huis Ten Bosch Country Club, one of the finest golf courses in Japan, is only a few hours' away by car. It has beautiful views of the bay and surrounding woodlands. Well worth a visit for the tourist...and the Shinigami taking a well-earned break from work."

"I want to know what happened to me." Tsuzuki rolled his shoulders, testing his back. No pain or scratches remained. The burning ache was gone. "What did you do?"

"We can talk and play at the same time. Such is the civilised nature of a golf game." He cast Tsuzuki a sly look. "If you don't know how to play, I will be more than happy to teach you."

Tsuzuki considered the alternative: trapped in the apartment, distracted by his own lust and Muraki's persistent attention. Maybe an outdoor location would be easier. And he still had the list of potential demon names to test on the feline...

"Fine." He dusted the manju crumbs from his gloves. "As long as your kitten accompanies us, why not?"

xxxxx


	12. The dog, the Shinigami and the golf game

Thanks to demonprist for cat tips and beta-ing. Thanks also to Gengkotsuya for Muraki's car - a Ferrari 360 Spider.

And thanks so much to those who've commented so far! Some very intriguing thoughts and ideas! Some even more fascinating that what I've come up with. (If you'd like me to reply to you, please leave your email.)

I've chosen to spell Saaga's name as Saagatanus. Feel free to insert whatever spelling you prefer.

6/11/04 - Minor revisions made.

Warning: graphic violence.

* * *

Tsuzuki had never seen anything like it in his life.

Muraki's car was a low-slung two-door convertible, gleaming silver grey, with sleek curves and flowing lines. The front windscreen was steeply raked so its lines merged with the bonnet. The back was raised higher than the front to house the rear engine, giving the vehicle the illusion of powering forward even while stationary. With the black soft top up, the interior cabin was concealed from view.

Tsuzuki stared at it, fascinated. The car seemed to wear a menacing sneer. Maybe it was the headlights shaped like slanted eyes, much like its owner. He peered down to inspect the prancing horse badge, afraid to go too close in case he marred the bonnet with the fog of his breath. "Is this really yours?"

"Yes." Muraki took out his keys and opened the door. "This is mine." He placed the golf bag in the compartment behind the seats. "Please get in." He thrust the kitten at Tsuzuki. "And take care of this monster."

Gingerly Tsuzuki took hold of the animal. It looked up at him with big grey eyes and let out a plaintive meow.

The interior was fitted with a combination of soft black leather and grey aluminium trim - roomy and surprisingly comfortable despite being so low to the ground. Tsuzuki looked about in wonder - such vehicles were unknown during his lifetime. He had no idea of how automobiles worked, and his experience as a passenger was limited to the workmanlike Toyota used for group Shoukanka outings - a vehicle Tatsumi didn't entrust to any other Shinigami save himself.

"You don't have to drive. I can use a spell to get us there in an instant."

"True, but it wouldn't be half as entertaining, ne?" He grinned at Tsuzuki as he turned the ignition. "Sometimes the journey can be even more interesting than the final destination. But thank you for the offer."

The engine behind them rumbled into life, a mechanical purr that sent shivers along Tsuzuki's spine. Tsuzuki quickly put on his seatbelt. Even though he was a Shinigami, he suspected he was going to need it in a roadster like this.

"Listen. There is no other sound in the world like the engine of a Ferrari."

The kitten scrabbled up Tsuzuki's chest, digging its claws in his trenchcoat. Tsuzuki tried to prise it off. "How did you raise the money to buy this car?"

"I worked long hours and saved my money-"

"Did it come from the organ transplant racket you ran on the Queen Camellia?"

"Among other sources." Muraki put the car into reverse, looked behind him, and accelerated hard. The vehicle skidded sideways, wheels squealing on the concrete as it turned to face the garage doors.

"Hey! Slow down!"

The car lurched to a stop, the engine's roar muted to a soft purr.

"What do you mean? We haven't even started our journey yet. Don't tell me you're one of those annoying passengers who insist on giving instructions to the driver?"

Tsuzuki clutched the kitten, which had managed to bury itself under his trenchcoat. "Is this how you normally drive?"

"This is how the car is meant to be driven. For all its exterior beauty and creature comforts, it has the heart and soul of a racing car. To treat it as anything less would be an insult to its creators, and the vehicle itself." Muraki pressed a remote control wand, and the garage door slid open. "Do you distrust my driving skill already?"

"If I wasn't already dead I'd be worried, yes."

Muraki chuckled. "But I am in my element with objects of metal, whether it be scalpel, knife, gun...as you well know." He put the car into first gear. "This amazing piece of machinery is infinitely more complex, but it is of the same descent as the other instruments I have mastered. I am a mere human with no true magic of my own, so I must settle for mastery over inanimate objects such as this." His visible grey eye gleamed as he cast Tsuzuki a sidelong look. "I have seen your power - now I want to show you mine."

Tsuzuki felt something strange kick inside him. Power...speed...freedom...like watching his shikigami in action.

He looked at the open driveway leading outside. "Go on then. Have your fun." He gripped the door handle with one hand and the kitten with the other.

"I will." Muraki revved the engine, and the car roared off.

Strange how an inanimate object could remind him of his shikigami, but this vehicle was imbued with a personality of its own. With minimal effort it accelerated from zero to a speed that made him giddy and left other drivers looking on in awe. Muraki's movements were swift, but even that couldn't account for the vehicle's incredibly fast response time. It didn't cruise - it attacked the road as if it lived solely for this purpose.

At traffic lights, it would brake readily enough, but the persistent purr of the engine hinted at its impatience at being curbed. It would growl in triumph when the lights went green, and it was allowed free rein again.

On the open road, Muraki was free to let the engine loose. The speedometer needle rested ever so slightly above the speed limit, kept there more by Muraki's restraint than the engine's limitations. The ease with which it roared up inclines proved the car had much more in reserve, waiting to be tapped.

Muraki pressed a button on the dashboard, and the top folded behind them. Startled, Tsuzuki looked up at the bright blue sky, lifting his hand to protect his eyes against the sunlight. The kitten mewed and clambered its way out of the coat to lie on Tsuzuki's lap. It lifted its head and closed its eyes, enjoying the wind ruffling its fur.

"I wanted to do this earlier, but there were too many prying eyes. This vehicle always generates attention wherever it goes."

"Isn't that part of the appeal?" Tsuzuki had to raise his voice above the noise of the engine. "This vehicle is a symbol of wealth and status - the type of car you drive to show off your superiority over others."

"Not at all, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki made no attempt to raise his voice, yet Tsuzuki could still hear every word. There was something about the way the silky tenor of his voice glided above the engine's deep snarl. "A Mercedes-Benz or BMW would be a symbol of status - luxurious, well appointed, reliable. But a Ferrari is a work of art and an engineering marvel. The power, the performance, the look - to drive a vehicle like this is the closest most will get to a magical experience. Challenge it all you like, push it as far as you dare, but you will never reach its limits outside the racetrack. It is said you can never own a car like this - you merely enter into a commitment."

Tsuzuki took out his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. "Not an alliance? Or a covenant?"

Muraki's lips quirked. "The relationship is too unequal to warrant the title. Servicing, parts, fuel, tyres...the running costs are prohibitive. As for the rewards..." He glanced at Tsuzuki. "Why don't you tell me? Are you enjoying the ride? When you overcome your fear the speed becomes exhilarating, ne? All others can never compare."

"As long as it gets us from A to B, I have no complaints." Tsuzuki pulled out the list of demon names from his pocket. The kitten was sitting in his lap - there was nowhere it could hide. He may as well test them now. If Muraki was going to object, he'd find out soon enough. "Do you mind if I read?"

"Be my guest."

Tsuzuki held the papers in one hand, and memorised the first dozen names. With the other, he scratched the kitten behind the ears. It purred in reply. When he was ready, he shoved the papers under his coat and placed his palms together in prayer. He murmured the summoning spell to himself.

Muraki's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, his gaze still on the road. "What are you doing?"

"Furcarius." He paused for a beat. No change. "Alallum." Still nothing. "Separis."

The kitten looked up at him, grey eyes wide.

Muraki frowned. "Where did you get these names from?"

"Shemalian. Puloman. Lamial." After each name, he waited for a response. Calling out its true name should summon it forth, bringing out its true form. He looked down at it for some acknowledgement or change, however small. Still nothing.

"Tsuzuki-san, a word of advice, if I may-"

"Dantelion. Caacrinolaas."

The kitten hissed and clawed at his coat.

Muraki snorted with laughter. "Please - don't insult it like this. Of all the names to use..."

"Insult it?" Tsuzuki looked down at the animal. "Hey! It's trying to rip off my clothes." He grabbed it by the stomach and lifted it away.

"An understandable reaction. If I wasn't driving, I'd be doing the same."

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki held the cat at arm's distance. It was hissing wildly, little claws scratching the back of his hands. "What's wrong with it?"

"You must apologise. It is most offended."

"Offended? What did I do?" He eyed the furious creature. "Did you recognise that last name? Caacrino-"

His face was drenched with a furious hiss of cat saliva.

"Either you are incredibly heroic or a fool. Why risk further anger by repeating the insult twice?"

Tsuzuki dropped the animal on the floor and ripped off his glasses. "What is it with your cat today? It attacks my back, claws my coat, sprays spit all over me..."

The kitten watched him from the floor, grey eyes glittering.

"It's getting impatient," Muraki murmured. "As I am too." He held out one hand to the animal. "Come here."

It scrambled over Tsuzuki's legs to lie in Muraki's lap.

"I won't allow this in the city - the weight makes gear changes too awkward. But here on the highway it doesn't matter so much." He glanced down at the animal. "How can a host be so rude to a guest? Such irrational behaviour is unbecoming of you."

The cat meowed in reply.

Tsuzuki took out a handkerchief and wiped his glasses. "How is calling out a name an insult? I may have got it wrong-"

"To begin with, your pronounciation was terrible. How can you hope to summon a demon if you can't get its name right? Humans are just as picky about their own names, ne? If our names are not recognisable to us, why should we bother to answer?"

"So it's angry because I mispronounced its name?"

"Not at all. That is most definitely not its name. If anything-"

The cat yowled again and again, a strange mix of high and low discordant sounds, sounding like a violin played by a tone-deaf novice. Muraki kept silent, his gaze focused on the road ahead.

Tsuzuki looked at it, then at Muraki. "Is it trying to sing?"

"This is no joking matter, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki's expression was grave, his earlier humour gone. "Listen."

For almost a minute, the feline continued its caterwauling song. When it was done, it climbed into Tsuzuki's lap and curled up as if nothing had happened.

"Ahh...I think it's just forgiven me."

"Did you understand any of it?" Muraki asked.

"Huh? What's there to understand?"

Muraki's lower lip curled in disgust. "Truly this is an abomination. How can you close your ears to its plea?"

"I don't know cat talk! If you understood it, tell me what it said."

"You accused me of lying to you this morning, remember? Are you saying you trust me now?"

"Not really." Tsuzuki looked down at the animal. It had fallen asleep.

"Then there is no point asking me to interpret, ne?"

Tsuzuki sighed impatiently. "Try me. At least let me judge for myself."

Muraki glanced at him, a speculative look in his eye. "You are serious. This is a good sign." He turned back to the road and lifted his head. The sunlight glinted off the frames, obscuring his eyes from view. "But this isn't the time or place. In any case, it would be inappropriate for me to speak on its behalf."

Tsuzuki digested this information in silence.

There was no question in his mind about the kitten's demonic origins. It could see through his invisibility cloak. It knew how to reactivate the terrible pain along his shoulders and back - the ache he feared and dreaded. But the relationship it had with Muraki was not that of a human master with a familiar. Several times it had acted on its own initiative, risking Muraki's wrath with a fearlessness Tsuzuki found rather endearing in view of its small size. And Muraki's behaviour was atypical of a human trapped under the terms of a contract - stroking the kitten one moment and reprimanding it the next.

Muraki and the kitten treated each other as equals. Well, as equal as a feline and a human could treat each other under the circumstances.

A true covenant between demon and human - was it possible?

Tsuzuki put his glasses away, along with the handkerchief. He'd clean it properly later with running water. "How are you able to understand it?" he asked. "Is this one of the gifts it has given you - the power to communicate with animals?"

Muraki tilted his head to one side, as if thinking hard. "Hmm. I suppose you could say that."

"I just have." Tsuzuki resisted the urge to pull at his hair - or Muraki's - in sheer frustration. "Am I correct?"

"It depends..." Muraki shifted down a gear. "...on what you mean by 'it.'"

"I mean the cat! You understand the cat because you've entered into a covenant with it!"

Muraki smiled cheerfully at him. "Wrong."

Tsuzuki clenched his fists in his lap at either side of the dozing feline. "What part is wrong? You know what it's saying, right? How are you able to understand it?"

"Tsuzuki-san, you are asking the wrong question. You should be wondering why _you_ can't understand its words."

"Because I'm not a cat! And I haven't entered into a covenant-alliance-contract-whatever with it!"

"Indeed." Muraki's silken voice was edged with impatience. "You speak truth, but your insistence on subterfuge is an insult to my intelligence."

"What are you talking about? You're the master of obfuscation! You can't give me a direct answer to even the simplest question!"

"Whereas you give direct answers that are irrelevant to the question I ask."

"Dammit! Talking to you is like hitting my head against a brick wall." Tsuzuki tried to lean forward, but the restraining pull of the seatbelt kept him in place. "What's the point in asking me questions when you're so sure of the answers? Why don't you just blurt it all out - the purpose of the covenant, the name of the demon, your ultimate plan. Then we can have a big fight, blow up a few buildings and you won't have to put up with me any longer."

Muraki burst out laughing. The kitten lifted its head at the sound.

Tsuzuki blinked, eyes wide. He'd heard Muraki laugh with maniacal glee, chuckle with seductive intent, but this was different. It sounded so rich and warm and unaffected...and genuine. He looked away, disturbed by the transformation. "What's so funny? That's how we dealt with things before."

"So it was," Muraki agreed. "But it became so predictable and dull, not to mention messy. It was high time we shifted our conflict to a more...intimate setting." He lowered his voice to a register barely audible above the engine's purr. "We still do battle, but with hands and lips instead of spells and spirits. We gain advantage by the pleasure we elicit, rather than the injuries we inflict. A far more satisfying arrangement, ne?"

Tsuzuki knew he must be flushing. He couldn't deny it. He knew his response was incriminating enough. "But it won't last. We have less than six days left..."

"But this day is far from over yet. We should focus on the moment, not on what may or may not happen in the future, ne?"

Tsuzuki sighed. Muraki was only going to answer his questions in his own time. Questioning him was pointless. He would have better luck working with the cat. Tsuzuki pulled out the sheets of paper to check the next lot of demon names to test.

"I recommend you put it away and enjoy the view. If the other names are anything like the ones you've mentioned already, then your source is extremely unreliable and out of date. And even if by some miracle the name is there - and you pronounce it correctly - your summons alone is unlikely to bring it forth." A trace of bitterness crept into his voice. "It has been sealed by a master of the craft, its power severely drained. Even in this domestic form, it cannot continue indefinitely."

"Power drained? By whom? Who sealed it?"

Muraki's lips twisted. "It already told you."

"But I can't hear what it's saying!"

"So you say." A flat monotone.

"I don't care whether you believe me or not." Tsuzuki put away the papers, and placed his hands together in prayer. "I have a job to do."

"Do as you please. Waste your time and energy - after all, you have unlimited reserves as a Shinigami, ne?"

"I will." Tsuzuki closed his eyes and focused his mind. There were several hundred more names to go. The sooner he started working through them, the better.

* * *

Half an hour later, Tsuzuki was no closer to summoning the kitten. He had called out about a quarter of the names, and none of them elicited anything apart from the odd meow. His tongue was dry, his throat parched. If he was going to call out the other names, he would need a stiff drink first.

"Forget about the names for now," Muraki said. "We're here."

Tsuzuki looked up. Before them was a grand building of red brick with two turrets on either side, surrounded by rolling hills of verdant green.

"Is...is that a castle? What's it doing here?"

"Amazing, isn't it? The country club is an exact replica of a castle located in the Netherlands. I understood they even imported the bricks to achieve the same degree of authenticity." Muraki shook his head, bemused. Even this was beyond the limits of his own extravagant tastes. "The entire resort is of similar architecture - all the buildings are painstakingly made in the style of a 17th century Dutch trading town. Later I will drive through the resort and you can see for yourself."

The gardens were well-kept, with large rows of tulips occupying the many flowerbeds. One bed was filled with pink-red tulips, so densely planted that they formed a rippling sea of colour. Another was filled with golden yellow tulips, so bright in the sunlight one almost had to squint one's eyes to see them.

Tsuzuki couldn't help smiling at the sight as he walked along the cobblestone path that wound through the gardens. "This is stunning."

In his arms, the kitten looked at the flowers too, its fur ruffled by the breeze.

Muraki joined him, pulling the golfbag beside him. "You like tulips, Tsuzuki-san?"

"It's been so long since I've done any gardening. I used to love planting flowers, watching them grow..."

"Can't you plant flowers in Meifu?"

"Yes, but..." Tsuzuki shrugged. "Plants flourish in Meifu on their own. They don't need me to care for them." It was easy to take the plants in Meifu for granted. The blossoms withered, but there were always new ones to take their place. The plants there would flower for eternity. But these fragile tulips bobbing and waving in the breeze depended on human intervention for their existence. The bulbs needed to be sown deep in the ground, as heat prevented them from blooming. If they were over-watered, bulb rot would set in. And once the plants died, they needed to be kept in the soil until the leaves had withered...

Tsuzuki frowned. He couldn't remember why, but he knew it was important.

"Their transience makes them special to you, ne?"

"From experience, I know tulips usually die off by summer. The caretakers must have put in a lot of effort to make them survive this long."

"Maybe this is a hardier hybrid. Through cross-breeding, strengths can be enhanced, weakness bred out. This is the basis of horticulture, ne? If only humans could improve their physical characteristics so easily."

"You can't be serious." Tsuzuki eyed him warily. "People don't choose their partners based on genetics."

"More's the pity." Muraki caressed one of the blossoms, then pulled a petal free to inspect it. "It's turning brown at the edges. They won't survive much longer."

Tsuzuki let his gaze drift over the sea of tulips. Memories came back of chilly winter mornings spent digging the soil to plant the bulbs. He loved watching the wriggling earthworms, and proudly showed them off to his horrified sister. His mother would scold him to put them back, reminding him how they helped aerate the soil.

His family had taught him everything he knew about gardening. And he'd forgotten the knowledge they'd passed onto him.

_Like he'd forgotten them?_

"Why do you care so much for these tulips?" Muraki watched him, his visible eye alive with curiosity. "Why place such value on something so impermanent and feeble?"

"But that's why they're special." Tsuzuki began walking again, trying to shake off the disturbing thoughts. He couldn't afford to daydream in Muraki's presence. "Knowing their limited lifespan makes me want to commit them to memory - to admire them while they are at their peak."

"Because you know they won't last? Truly, you are a romantic fool."

"You're the fool to limit your perception of beauty. A fleeting moment frozen in one's memory can still be beautiful. Even if things change, and wither, and die, that doesn't negate that they were beautiful once." He reached out to touch one of the petals. Even through the gloves, he could feel it was fleshy and firm - a healthy flower. "A short lifespan can still contain a great deal of beauty, a long lifespan much ugliness. The duration is not as important as what one does with one's time."

"Such comforting words from an immortal being," Muraki replied mockingly. "However, I take your point. Here on earth, we are all passing through. We must strive to do as much as we can within our alotted lifespan. But in Meifu things are different, ne? Nothing dies. Nothing changes. Nothing evolves. Everything is frozen in stasis for eternity...exactly as _he_ wants it."

Tsuzuki tensed. "By 'he' you mean EnmaDaiOh-sama."

"Why, how perceptive of you."

"I haven't come all this way to listen to slurs on DaiOh-sama."

"I know." Muraki put his arm around Tsuzuki's waist and pulled him close. "You've come all this way to be with me-"

"Muraki..."

"-and play golf. And so you will. Shall we go in?"

* * *

In Japan, membership to a golf course was extremely difficult to come by. Demand outstripped places and land was at a premium. Most players were doomed to play golf in the battery-hen confines of the driving range, whacking ball after ball like an automaton, surrounded by others doing exactly the same.

Membership to the prestigious Huis Ten Bosch Country Club was near impossible. Their members included captains of industry and commerce, politicians and diplomats - people of high social standing who held the reigns of power. Many of them had been on the waiting list for decades before they were granted entry. Most were middle-aged and balding, waistlines thickened by too much food and not enough exercise.

So the presence of two handsome young men, virile and lean, each with a full head of hair, was a source of much excitement and speculation among the staff. They recognised the tall man in white as the surgeon from Tokyo - impeccable manners, beautiful voice, quiet and focused during play, one who preferred solitude to the company of others. But for the first time, he had a guest by his side - a slender young man of uncommon beauty. He seemed bemused by the opulent surroundings, glancing about with eyes as wide as saucers, lips parted in awe. An offer by a clerk to take his coat was received with an expression of utter mystification, followed by a nervous laugh and a shake of the head.

"Who could he be? Do you think he is an actor?"

"You could be right! He definitely has the looks. His eyes are so soulful and dreamy. Purple contacts must be the new look this season. But I don't remember seeing him on TV."

"No, he's too shy and self-effacing to be an actor. Look, he's even blushing."

"He acts like he's hiding something. I bet he's a young Yakuza. Look at his clothes! Only Yakuza wear black. And why does he wear gloves in summer? Maybe he doesn't want to leave fingerprints."

"Why would Muraki-sensei go out with a criminal, even a good-looking one?"

"Maybe...maybe he's ex-Yakuza! Maybe Muraki-sensei has befriended him and taken him under his wing, rescuing him from a life of crime."

"Ohhh! That sounds so sweet! How generous of Muraki-sensei!"

Unnoticed by any of them, the guest shoved his smudged sunglasses on his nose and resisted the urge to make himself as invisible as possible.

* * *

It was quiet on the golf course, as expected for a weekday afternoon. The first tee-off was surrounded by gently rolling green hills peppered with conifers and ash and oak trees. The sparkling blue waters of Omura Bay stretched to the horizon. The sky was pure blue except for the odd streak of cirrus cloud.

Tsuzuki was oblivious to this. He didn't even notice the breeze ruffling his overlong hair. Something more pressing occupied his mind.

"Why do people get the wrong idea about us?"

Muraki squinted as he eyed the first fairway in the distance. "Wrong idea? Whatever do you mean, Tsuzuki-san?"

"I overheard the workers at the club. They thought I was a gangster, and you were trying to reform me! Can you believe it?"

Muraki chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Didn't I tell you black wasn't your colour?" Muraki went to the golf bag and took out a club and a ball. "Please hold this."

"Hah! If only they knew the truth." Tsuzuki held the kitten up. "What do I do with this?"

Muraki took the kitten from him and placed it next to the golf bag. "Stay, please."

The kitten meowed and lay down on the grass.

"Whose truth?" Muraki pulled out a longer club for himself and another golf ball. "Yours?"

"What do you mean - 'whose truth'?"

"In this world, there is no such thing as an absolute truth." Muraki inserted the tee into the ground, then balanced his ball on it. "We all interpret events differently, filtering them using our own experiences and knowledge and beliefs. There are as many versions of the truth as there are witnesses." He stood up, grey eyes sharp as they focused on Tsuzuki. "Why should one view be any more 'truthful' than another? Maybe those people are correct about us. Maybe you _are_ in need of my benevolent influence."

"Benevolent? You? They only think that because they don't know the crimes you've done! They don't know your history the way I do! They only think you're kind and generous because they don't have all the facts!"

"And you do? You think you know me so well?"

"I... No." Tsuzuki couldn't lie. There was a lot about Muraki he would never know, because Muraki revealed only what he wanted people to know. "But I do know you better than they ever will, because I've seen you at your worst."

"Such cynicism...but maybe you're right. To see one's ugliness now is to avoid disillusionment later." Muraki's lips twisted in a wry smile. "Let me teach you how to tee off."

He showed Tsuzuki how to grip the club, then went through the mechanics of the swing. Tsuzuki did his best to memorise the steps. Relax the knees, bend the hips slightly. Keep the grip light and arms loose. Rotate the upper torso, keeping the shoulders level about the spine. Twist left shoulder forward under chin for backswing, rotate right shoulder under chin for swing, then pose.

"I have to pose? What for?"

"So I can admire you, of course. Admire your windswept hair falling across your brow, your body a taut arc of black against the backdrop of blue sky-"

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki swung the club up, threatening to whack him over the head. "This isn't the place for this!"

"Forgive me. I was forgetting myself. The purpose of posing is to maintain balance. A good swing is a balanced swing. Allow me to demonstrate."

Muraki made it look so easy. His backswing was relaxed and easy, his downswing combining power and grace. The length of his body uncoiled like a spring, while the club was a blur of motion in his hands. With a solid clunk, the ball sailed through the air onto the closely mown grass of the fairway.

"Now it's your turn."

He helped Tsuzuki set up the tee. He guided him into position, instructing him on his stance and reminding him of his grip. Tsuzuki obeyed, a little surprised at Muraki's seriousness. His guiding touches were merely that - not once did they linger to an extent anyone would consider improper. Tsuzuki found himself allowing Muraki to manipulate his arms, guiding him through the backswing, focusing on the lesson instead of the teacher.

"If you have the grip and backswing correct, the rest will fall into place." Muraki stepped several feet away to face Tsuzuki. "Try it."

"Okay." Tsuzuki prepared himself, wriggling his arms a little to relax them as Muraki had shown him. Then he gripped the club tight, and swung the club as fast as he could.

A clump of grass went flying though the air. The ball remained perfectly balanced on the tee.

Tsuzuki blinked. "How did that happen?"

Muraki folded his arms, eyes narrowed. "Hmm. Try it again."

Tsuzuki did. More tufts of grass and dirt went flying. The golf ball wobbled and fell off the tee. Annoyed, Tsuzuki put the ball back on the tee and tried again. And again. And again. Soil and grass flew about him. Large divots were left at his feet. And still the ball didn't fly.

"This is far worse than I expected. Even with the advantage of gloves to assist his grip..." Muraki's brow furrowed as he watched.

"Dammit!" Tsuzuki took another swing at it. "Why don't they make bigger balls? Or bigger clubs?"

Muraki ducked, narrowly avoiding another sod of grass. "If he continues at this rate, he will end up digging a hole...or a grave." He exchanged glances with the kitten. "Oddly appropriate for a Shinigami, ne?"

The kitten meowed in agreement.

"Shut up, you two!" Tsuzuki tried once more, and nearly staggered forward with the force of his own swing. He threw down the golf club in disgust. "There's something wrong with this one. Give me the one you used."

"No. The driver is the most difficult of the clubs to master. I gave you an iron with a shorter shaft so you could better control your swing." He picked up Tsuzuki's club. "Do you know what your problem is?"

"If I did, I would have fixed it!"

"You're trying too hard to hit the ball. A common mistake." He held the club out to him, grip first. "Do you know how to waltz?"

Tsuzuki took the club reluctantly. "Why?"

"So you know?" Muraki tilted his head, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Do you prefer to lead or follow?" He held out his arms to Tsuzuki.

"None of your business." Tsuzuki stepped back, holding the club in front of him like a weapon. He knew Muraki was going to do something wildly inappropriate sooner or later. "What has that got to do with this?"

"Tell me, Tsuzuki-san, would you grasp your partner so tight that they can't breathe? Would you swing your partner so fast they felt like vomiting in your arms instead of swooning with delight?"

"No. But how is that-"

"Then don't treat the golf club in such a disrespectful manner. Golf is like a waltz with the club as your partner." Muraki embraced an imaginary dancing partner. "Your grip should be light yet firm. You should time your swing using 3/4 tempo." He began to waltz by himself on the grass, his steps sure and confident as he avoided the divots in the lawn. "Your swing should be easy, graceful, effortless. Don't aim to hit the ball - that is the surest way to miss."

Tsuzuki watched, bemused at the surreal spectacle of Muraki dancing by himself. The ends of his trenchcoat flared as he twirled around, propelled by the sea breeze. Muraki waltzed with the ease of a person who was comfortable with his own physicality and found pleasure in his own skin. For a moment, Tsuzuki wondered if he was dancing on air, so light and nimble were his movements.

Even the kitten was entranced, pouncing after his feet to keep up with him.

"Are you serious? I shouldn't aim to hit the ball?"

"Correct. You swing the club, let gravity do the rest...and the ball happens to be in the way." Muraki swept the kitten in his arms, held it up and continued waltzing. "And remember to pose at the end for balance. If you cannot maintain your balance, your swing is too fast."

The kitten wriggled and meowed as Muraki swung it around.

Muraki brought it close to his face. "You don't mind me leading, ne?"

The kitten licked his nose, making him laugh.

Tsuzuki looked away, inexplicably annoyed. "You look like an idiot."

"Would you rather I waltz with you, Tsuzuki-san?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Are you going to watch me tee off or not?"

"I will watch...but whether I see you tee off or not depends on you." He cradled the kitten in his arms and pivoted to face Tsuzuki. "Treat the club as you would a dance partner. Focus on the swing, not the ball."

Tsuzuki went through the movements, thinking of the swing. Relax the arms. Loosen the wrists and elbows and shoulders. Turn about the torso, keep shoulders level. Unwind.

Another clump of dirt went into the air. Tsuzuki squinted as it narrowly missed his face.

And with it went the ball, flying high and fast as it hurtled down toward the fairway.

The kitten watched the ball's path. Muraki's steel-grey gaze remained fixed on Tsuzuki.

"I did it!" Tsuzuki punched his club in the air. "Hah! Did you see that, Muraki? I did it! I hit the ball!"

"So you did. That's much more like it." Muraki smiled and picked up the golfbag. "Now let's go find it."

* * *

For the next hour, Tsuzuki found himself chasing and whacking a little white ball around a big immaculately kept park. He followed the ball into the long grass of the rough. He followed it into sand bunkers, and sprayed sand everywhere as he tried to hit it out. All the while, Muraki went with him, advising him on which club to use, guiding him on how to play each stroke. He was patient and good-humoured, though he did smirk often at Tsuzuki's numerous errors.

Their game was held up after Tsuzuki sliced the ball into a copse of trees during the fifth hole. After five minutes of fruitless searching, Muraki set the kitten down to hunt for it.

"Does it always obey you without question?" Tsuzuki asked as it bounded off.

"Hardly. You saw for yourself earlier, ne?" Muraki placed a hand on Tsuzuki's back and stroked between his shoulder blades. "Forgive it for the transgression. It acted without malice. It was thinking of you."

Tsuzuki shifted away from Muraki's touch. "For a sealed demon, it has a lot of energy in reserve."

Muraki let his hand drop. "What you experienced was a mere fraction of its full power."

"Lucky for me." Tsuzuki pulled his coat around him. The list of names rustled with his movements. "So you know its name?"

"Yes." Muraki didn't elaborate.

"Then you could be free of it with a binding spell. If it's already weakened, it won't take much to destroy it completely."

Muraki regarded Tsuzuki with a raised brow. "Why would I act in such a traitorous manner?"

"It's draining you, Muraki. It wants energy, and you're its host. What do you have to gain by such a one-sided relationship?"

"Tsuzuki-san, don't tell me you're concerned? Could this be possible?"

"Listen to me, dammit! I'm being serious!"

"I am too." A smouldering fire lurked in Muraki's eyes. "You are jealous, ne?"

"No way!"

"You have no reason to be. I carry your mark everywhere I go." He touched his side as he remembered the scars. "If you are genuinely concerned for my well-being, let me feed. Your essence will replenish and nourish me anew."

"Break the covenant. Then you won't need to feed at all."

Muraki shook his head. "I cannot. And even if I did, it wouldn't ease my hunger for you." His gaze was sombre as he studied Tsuzuki. "Do you wish to be free of me so much?"

"This isn't about me!"

"So you'd like to believe...but you've become an expert in denial, ne? You've had years of practice to hone your skill."

The cat yowled. It was under an ash tree several yards away, swiping the golf ball with its paws.

"There it is." Tsuzuki strode over to it. "What club should I use now, Muraki?"

Muraki's lips thinned with displeasure. But he took out a club and guided Tsuzuki with the shot.

It took another four shots for Tsuzuki to reach the green. Muraki's ball was already there, having arrived there within a mere two strokes from tee to green. The fifth putting green was situated atop the cliffs overlooking the bay. The breeze was strong, making Tsuzuki's coat flap about him. He could even feel the light touch of cool seaspray touch his forehead. Below them, the glittering bay stretched below.

After Muraki finished the hole, it was Tsuzuki's turn.

"You said this game was relaxing," Tsuzuki said, estimating the distance to the hole. "You lied."

"I didn't expect you to be so incompetent," Muraki replied carelessly. He held the flagstick with both hands as he waited for Tsuzuki to finish. "And you didn't answer my question."

Tsuzuki putted the ball. It rolled to the left to rest several inches past the hole. He went over to it, his gaze focused on the game. "What question?"

Muraki's fingers tightened around the flagstick. "Would you like to be free of me, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki putted again. The ball went in without a hitch - the first time he had managed to putt the ball using the standard two shots.

"Why do you ask such a pointless question? You've never cared about my opinion before." Tsuzuki took out the ball. "Are you offering to leave me alone if I say yes?"

Muraki placed the flagstick inside the cup. "If you say the word, it will be done." He bowed his head. "I am yours."

"Stop saying that! Who put such a crazy idea in your head?"

"It's the truth. Our truth, whether you want to acknowledge it or not." Muraki walked past Tsuzuki to look at the bay, arms folded. The wind flapped his coat, sending the tails streaming behind him. "Ever since I laid eyes on your photo, I was enslaved by you. Your ageless beauty, your astonishing recuperative powers - no one has affected me like this. I wanted you. I envied you. I couldn't stop thinking about you. I became convinced that you held the answer to everything I wanted - the key to immortality, the antidote to disease, a rival worthy of my interest." A trace of affection crept into his voice. "Which you were. With each meeting, you fed my obsession, making me want you more and more...until I began to loathe myself. My feelings were a disgusting weakness. I vowed never to feel that way about anyone again. Those dearest to me are the ones I must crush underfoot."

Tsuzuki didn't know what to say. "Muraki..."

"So I made you a whipping boy for my vengeance. Kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes." His laughter was short and sharp and bitter. "And look what happened! I am more tied to you than ever before!" He lowered his head, shoulders hunched, his back to Tsuzuki. "Answer my question. Do you want to be free of me?"

Tsuzuki opened his mouth to speak, but the answer remained in his throat, choking him of breath. His heart pounded so hard it was a wonder it didn't break free from his chest. Why was it so hard to say it? He squeezed his eyes shut and looked away. "What I want is irrelevant. I am a representative of JuOhCho, the Shinigami for Second Block. I am here to investigate the possibility of demonic interference in the life of one Muraki Kazutaka-"

"Do you delight in torturing me?" Muraki whirled around to face him, his false eye glowing red. "Are you being kind to be cruel? I will get an answer from you if it's the last thing I do." A gust of wind blew from behind, making his hair fall into his eyes. "Let me summon an old friend to sweep away any concerns you may have about my tender feelings."

Tsuzuki backed away. "Who?"

"Caacrinolaas is a corrupted version of its name. You remember it by another."

From its position next to the golfbag, the kitten hissed and arched its back.

Tsuzuki glanced at it, then at Muraki. "You're summoning a demon? Why here? Why now?"

"Why not? It will be like old times. A reunion of sorts. You enjoyed our reunion, ne?"

Thick black clouds rolled in from land and sea to where they stood, casting everything into darkness. The wind was now a howling gale, bending trees and breaking branches with its force. Tsuzuki had to brace his legs apart to stay upright against it. He lifted his arm to protect his eyes.

"Muraki! Dammit, what are you doing?"

"Come forth!" Muraki bellowed, lifting his face to the darkened heavens. "I call you forth, Grand Duke and Brigade Commander, Saagatanus!"

Two glowing yellow lights penetrated the clouds. Red bolts of lightning lit up the sky. The sound of flapping wings beat the air. The monstrous head emerged first, mouth agape to reveal gleaming teeth and a thin reptilian tongue. It was followed by a serpentine neck and human-like chest of rippling muscle beneath its gleaming black-brown coat, looking uncannily like a Doberman on steroids. Then the massive black feathered wings and taloned paws appeared, revealing the creature's demonic origins as it swooped over their heads.

Tsuzuki couldn't move. Shock rooted him to the spot.

In all his years as a Shinigami, Saagatanus was the only demon who had dared to take possession of him. Tsuzuki vividly remembered watching in helpless horror as the demon hound bent him to its will, unleashing carnage and devastation using his Shinigami powers. Even now, the humiliation and shame was fresh in his mind, along with the pain of the demon's brand and the agony of the wings erupting forth.

"I should have known," Tsuzuki muttered. "When you knew about my back..." His eyes glittered with fury. "You want to take possession of me the way he did. You're trying to reactivate this parasite inside me." Tsuzuki's voice trembled with barely suppressed rage. "I won't let you do it! I'd rather annihilate myself than allow it to happen again!"

Muraki shook his head, lips twisted in grim amusement. "You think Enma will let you go so easily?"

"Who dares to summon the Brigade Commander of the Demon World?" Saaga roared. The ground trembled with the reverberations of his basso profundo voice. From his jaws, a plume of fire raced across the sky.

The kitten bounded between Tsuzuki and Muraki and hissed again at the demon.

Muraki looked up, lips parted in awe, like a child admiring a fireworks display. "Such a pretty show, ne? At least someone here knows how to wield their full power."

Saaga circled then swooped lower to where both men stood. "Puny humans! You will pay for such insolence!" He breathed a plume of fire and sulphurous black smoke at them.

Tsuzuki pulled out a handful of fuda and snatched the kitten up. He tackled Muraki, knocking him to the ground. Quickly he rolled around and threw up the barrier fuda.

Black smoke enveloped them both. A fireball hit the barrier with a loud crash, setting sparks flying around them. Another explosion came after it. The barrier crackled and hissed, but stayed in place.

The kitten hissed again.

Yet another explosion hit the barrier. This time it crumbled, and the fuda fell apart in his hand. Ash rained on them. Sulphur filled Tsuzuki's nostrils, making his throat sting and eyes burn. He staggered to his feet and fumbled for his attack fuda.

"You!" Saaga stood before them, head held high. At full height, he was three times the height of a normal man. "I remember you, my little lamb!"

Tsuzuki clenched his teeth against some choice epithets and hurled the attack fuda. A flock of swallows burst forth, sweeping through the air to attack the demon. Some pecked the gold eyes, others the ears and legs and tail. A few even pulled at the feathers of his wings. Saaga twisted and snarled as he tried to free himself.

"That won't hold him," Muraki said, rising to his feet.

"I know that!" Tsuzuki snapped a barrier fuda with his gloved fingers to activate it, then shoved it at Muraki. "I'll deal with you later."

Muraki crushed it in his fist and shoved it in his pocket. "What are you going to do?"

Tsuzuki put his hands together. "Humbly do I present my wish to-"

"No." Muraki seized his shoulder and pulled him close. "Don't call your shikigami."

Saaga let out a frustrated roar. He exhaled more fire as he twisted his long neck, incinerating all the bird spirits he could find.

Tsuzuki shoved Muraki away. "Get away from me! Go help your demon friend!"

Muraki fell back, his good eye flashing with anger. "Your orders are contradictory. I can't do both at the same time."

The remaining handful of swallows flew into the air. Saaga raced off in pursuit, hurling fireball after fireball to scatter them, then swooped back to attack Tsuzuki again. "You cannot escape! I had you once and I will have you again, Enma be damned! Your friends will burn in the fires of Hell!"

"_My_ friends?"

The kitten hissed and yowled, tail lashing. It rose on its two legs and clawed the air. Ferocious and menacing, yes, but it couldn't even reach Tsuzuki's knee. Next to it, Muraki took out a cigarette and put it to his lips.

Such recklessness defied belief. "Muraki! What are you doing, idiot?"

"Inhaling all this smoke triggered my craving." Muraki flicked the lighter, and frowned as it refused to ignite. He cupped his hand around the lighter and tried again.

"You..." Tsuzuki hurled more attack fuda at the demon.

An energy bolt crackled forth, striking Saaga in the chest. The demon whined and twisted in midair. The beat of his wings sent dust and ashes swirling around them.

"This...this is stupidity! You think you can summon a demon like this without consequence?" Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki's arm with such force that Muraki dropped his cigarette. "Run, dammit! Take your cat with you! Entering into a covenant with Saaga is the ultimate folly. This demon hates all humans!"

"My covenant isn't with that canine blowtorch!" Muraki snapped.

Tsuzuki stepped back. "Huh?"

Saaga emerged through the smoke and dust, yellow eyes aglow. "You cannot hide from me!" He saw the yowling kitten. "Pathetic bug!" With a quick dart of his head, he devoured the animal in a single bite.

Muraki sighed. "Greedy fool."

Tsuzuki hurled another attack fuda. Saaga howled in pain as the energy ball hit his throat and lower jaw. "Come on!" Tsuzuki broke into a run, pulling Muraki with him. "Get as far away as you can. Use the barrier fuda to protect yourself. I'll summon Byakko!"

"Wind against Fire?" Muraki yanked Tsuzuki to a stop. "You make the risky assumption Wind can extinguish the flames without fanning them further. Did you learn nothing in your first encounter with Saagatanus?"

Tsuzuki felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. "You know..."

"Enough of these games!" Saaga surged free of the energy bolt. "I will consume your sweet flesh again! You are no virgin to my possession. You will be even easier to control the second time around!"

Tsuzuki whirled around, fingers trembling as he clutched two attack fuda. "Silence!" He danced away, pulling Muraki behind him, and hurled the fuda in quick succession. An energy bolt struck Saaga's left wing, sending black feathers flying everywhere. The second fuda released a pack of howling wolf spirits. They raced towards Saaga, teeth bared.

Saaga roared and breathed a gust of fire at them. Some of the leading wolves were incinerated in the blast, but others dispersed in time to sink their teeth into his trunk and throat. Saaga stomped and lashed about in fury, making the ground shake.

"Earth cannot extinguish Fire." Muraki grasped Tsuzuki's left shoulder with both hands, his left hand gripping the front, while his right clutched the shoulder blade. His nails dug into the flesh, marking Tsuzuki through the layers of cloth.

Tsuzuki gasped. This was the same place Saaga branded him. "Muraki...what..."

Muraki's breath was hot against his ear, the weight of his body hard against his back. "Tell me what controls Fire, Tsuzuki-san."

"Souryuu. His element is Water-"

"No." Muraki's fingers kneaded flesh to bone. "Your shikigami are a crutch, nothing more."

Tsuzuki tried to twist free without success. Saaga had shaken off most of the wolf spirits, but a few snapped at his face and throat. "I borrow the power of my shikigami to fight demons. They're my only hope against this monster!"

"You don't need them, Tsuzuki-san. You never did." Muraki's lips caressed his ear. "Saagatanus, your shikigami...their power is miniscule compared to yours."

Tsuzuki shook his head violently. "He controlled me once...made me attack the people I cared for, turned me against my friends...I won't let it happen again!" Tsuzuki put his hands together. "I have to-"

Saaga lunged forward, free of the wolf spirits. Fire surged from his nostrils and mouth.

"Hold on!" Tsuzuki jumped into the smoke-filled air to dodge them, lifting Muraki with him. The flames narrowly missed his legs. "See for yourself!" He eyed the dull red glow of the flames below. "I can't defeat Saaga on my own!"

"Believe in yourself. You are not alone. From now on-"

Coldness invaded Tsuzuki's left shoulder. It spread down to his left hand, then through his chest to his right shoulder, and down to his right hand.

"-you will never be alone."

Tsuzuki blinked. Wetness lined his palms. Moisture penetrated the velvet of the gloves.

"There you are!" Saaga roared. The demon soared up, breathing fire as he flew towards them.

Tsuzuki bounded away, but Saaga was too fast. He grabbed Tsuzuki's leg with one of his talons. Tsuzuki twisted away, almost hanging upside down to avoid Saaga's jaws.

"You are mine!" Saaga bent his long neck to see Tsuzuki properly. His gold eyes flashed as he caught sight of Muraki clinging to Tsuzuki's shoulder. "And so is your feeble human friend! I will devour him in front of you before I taste your sweet flesh again." The stench of burning sulphur drifted from his nostrils as he rolled forward, teeth bared to attack.

"No!" Tsuzuki hurled himself backwards until he was upright again. "Leave him alone! It's me you want!" He fumbled for his fuda, but his wet gloves made the paper charms stick together. Attempting to activate them only ripped the soggy paper to pieces.

By Tsuzuki's left shoulder, Muraki gazed unflinchingly at the demon. "Great Duke Saagatanus, aren't you remotely curious as to why I summoned you here?"

"So it was you, insolent insect!"

Tsuzuki swore and yanked at the buckle of the glove. It wouldn't come off.

Muraki held out his hand to Saaga. "Take this and eat it."

Saaga's head snaked down, white teeth gleaming, saliva dripping from his jaws.

"NO!" Tsuzuki lunged forward. He seized Saaga's lower jaw, forcing his mouth away from Muraki. His fingers curled around the demon's jagged teeth. "He is not...for you."

Saaga snarled, infuriated. "Fool!" He yanked Tsuzuki's leg, stretching his body to breaking point.

Water seeped through the velvet, dripping down Tsuzuki's trembling arms. It began to pool in Saaga's mouth. Saaga coughed and spluttered. He shook his head as he fought to break free.

Tsuzuki tightened his grip, teeth clenched in grim determination. Muraki was right. He should have summoned Souryuu the first time he fought Saaga. Choosing the right shikigami would have avoided everything: Saaga's possession, Hisoka's stabbing in Hijiri's place, the damage to EnmaCho... and Kazusa's premature death. A single Ocean Wave Attack might have stopped Saaga in his tracks.

"Water," he whispered. "I need..."

Saaga's upper teeth began to descend. The lower jaw lifted to meet it.

Tsuzuki watched, a helpless spectator in his own worst nightmare. Saaga would crush his fingers and possess his body once again. Hisoka, Watari, Tatsumi, Chief Konoe, even the Gushoshin...he would hurt them all as Saaga ran rampant through Meifu. The EnmaCho main building would be destroyed, the library left in ruins.

He didn't want to be a burden to the Shoukanka, but it was unavoidable. His powers were a curse to everyone who associated with him. What was the point in pretending otherwise?

_Everyone...forgive me. But I have to do this._

Tsuzuki pulled at the lower jaw, his arms and shoulders aching with the effort. His entire body was taut as a violin string, every muscle and tendon straining against Saaga's hold. He hadn't pursued Muraki this far to lose him now. There was no turning back.

_No demon will have you. No interference will be allowed._

A flash of white arced over Tsuzuki's left shoulder.

"Has Ashitarote taught you no manners at all?" Muraki yanked the demon's upper jaw up and away from Tsuzuki's fingers. "Is this how you offer homage to your betters?"

Tsuzuki stared, eyes wide. "Muraki..."

"You are here to face punishment for your crimes. As you have done to others, so we shall do to you."

Tsuzuki's velvet gloves ripped apart at the seams. A torrent of water gushed from his hands into Saaga's mouth. The demon jerked and writhed against the onslaught.

"You, a Brigade Commander? Don't make me laugh!" Muraki's false eye glowed a brilliant white. "You are bait! You are target practice! You are nothing but a toy for our amusement!"

The water was everywhere, a raging flood that surged into Saaga's unwilling mouth. Water poured out of his nostrils and ears. Choking spasms shook the demon's throat and chest. With his jaws held open, he couldn't stop the flood. His wings beat furiously while he tried to lash his head from side to side, neck muscles taut with the effort.

Tsuzuki couldn't believe it. He hadn't even thrown fuda this time. All this water...it was impossible for him to generate it with his own power. He gazed at Muraki's features in wonder, so stern and patrician in profile.

"Extinguish him once and for all," Muraki muttered. His gaze dimmed, but his grip remained firm over Saaga's upper jaw. "If this is how this worm repays your previous clemency, he's not worthy of your consideration now."

Tsuzuki took a deep breath and focused his thoughts, the same method he used to cast a spell. He thought of nerve endings too numb to feel, blood coagulating as it turned to ice within veins, joints creaking with stiffness as the cold permeated muscle and bone.

"Feel what I felt," Tsuzuki whispered. "My frustration as you locked me within myself, helpless to your every sadistic whim, reliving my crimes again and again..."

Saaga let out a pitiful whine. Shards of ice slid into his mouth, down his windpipe and into his lungs. The taloned feet eased its grip around Tsuzuki's leg. The gold eyes rolled back, the frenzied flapping of the black wings ceased.

They watched as the demon plunged to earth.

"You did it," Muraki murmured, his voice rich and warm with triumph. "Doesn't it feel good to defeat a demon by yourself?"

"I..." Tsuzuki stared at his drying hands. His arms and chest were no longer cold, the power he had felt flowing through him now absent. The velvet material was torn into ragged pieces, but the steel buckles kept the cuffs in place. "I wish I knew."

"Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki didn't reply as he began his descent to earth.

The clouds were clearing around them, retreating as rapidly as they had arrived. Small craters of smoking black ash marked the green grass. Saaga lay several metres from the edge of the cliffs. The impact of his body formed a small crater in the ground.

Tsuzuki eyed Muraki's fingers clenched on his shoulder. "You can let go of me now."

Muraki raised both brows, but did as requested.

Tsuzuki went to inspect the demon at close range. Brown-black water oozed from his nostrils. His chest rose and fell rapidly, jaws and wings twitching in the occasional coughing fit. A few black feathers fluttered loose before floating back to the ground.

To see the demon he once feared so humbled and weakened in defeat - Tsuzuki felt only muted relief, not heady triumph. He could afford a scrap of pity for the creature.

Muraki squatted down beside the massive head. "This is what he deserved." He pulled one floppy ear back to open the canal. "This worm is as culpable as Enma for the state you are in now."

Tsuzuki undid the buckles of his gloves and let them fall to the ground. "Leave him alone."

"Why? He made you fear the source of your strength. He turned you against yourself." Muraki stood up and walked to Tsuzuki. "He must pay for this treason."

"Leave him be." Tsuzuki's voice was toneless, bereft of emotion. "He's paid already."

One of the demon's eyes flickered open, revealing a gold eye and slit-like black pupil. "You...how..."

Muraki tilted his head to one side to look at him. "I doubt a dog like you would understand. Cooperation isn't encouraged by Ashitarote, ne?"

"Expressly...forbidden." The demon went into a violent coughing fit. "We dogs..." His deep voice was thready and weak. "We all...must serve." His eye rolled around to fix on Tsuzuki. "You...no different. Your master..."

"I serve EnmaDaiOh."

The single gold eye flicked to Muraki. "Is that so?"

Muraki shrugged as he searched the breastpocket of his coat for a cigarette.

Tsuzuki noticed the exchange. "You know him?"

"I remember...the promise. Immeasurable light..." Saaga looked at Tsuzuki. "You do not know?"

"Know what?"

"Well, well..." Saaga began to wheeze, the air whistling as it moved in and out of his lungs. "He does not...acknowledge you."

Muraki's gaze narrowed. "You whine too much, dog of Ashitarote."

The wheezing sound became mocking laughter. "Could this be...a false prophet?"

"Enough!" Muraki snarled. "Be silent!"

"I am not...yours to command..." Saaga's iris began to glow. "A traitor...such as you!"

The sinuous neck whipped towards Muraki, teeth bared for one last attack.

Tsuzuki tried to push Muraki aside, but Muraki was faster. He drew out a large penknife from his trenchcoat and struck Saaga in the eye, deflecting the head as he dodged the other way. With a brutal flick of his wrist and the crunch of steel against bone, he gouged out the demon's eyeball. It fell on the grass at Tsuzuki's feet.

Saaga didn't make a sound. His head and neck fell to the ground, dark red blood filling the eye socket.

Muraki rolled the lifeless head over with his foot and dug out the other eye for good measure.

Tsuzuki covered his mouth with his hands. "Do you have to desecrate it like this?"

"Yes." Muraki straightened up, his white trenchcoat splattered with blood. The blade of his knife and his hand were covered in viscous red and black liquid. "It will serve as an example to anyone who questions your authority." He held out his hand, revealing a glistening tangle of nerves and vessels. "A meagre sacrifice, but better than nothing."

"I don't want a sacrifice!" Tsuzuki clenched his hands into fists. "Nothing you do makes sense! You summon demons to attack me, then channel power through me to defeat them. Why?"

"You were the one who defeated him. I merely nourished what lies dormant inside you."

Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki's wrists, letting the eyeball drop to the grass. "Who...what...are you?" He pulled Muraki roughly against him. "Tell me!"

Muraki trailed a finger along Tsuzuki's jaw, leaving behind a smear of blood. "Yours."

"What type of answer is that?" Tsuzuki's fingers clenched in Muraki's shoulders. Solid and warm and alive. A thrill of joy passed through him, even as Muraki's words filled him with foreboding. How could a human know about channeling power? How could a human stand up to a demon like Saaga with such fearless defiance?

"The only one that matters." Muraki nuzzled Tsuzuki's nose, then kissed him. His mouth tasted of ash and rust - the flavour of destruction - and Tsuzuki couldn't get enough. He squirmed closer, his lips parting to taste more, his tongue aggresively seeking out the silken contours and recesses of Muraki's mouth.

Muraki let out a little laugh as he pulled away. "You want me, ne?"

"Yes." Tsuzuki thrust his fingers into overlong silver hair and hauled him back down. It was a relief to say it. Ironic how an admission of dependence could feel like liberation.

"Good." Muraki's fingers splayed across his back, nails digging into the prominence of his left shoulder blade. "Believe in me, as I believe in you," he muttered against Tsuzuki's lips. He pulled the black trenchcoat from his shoulders, and bit into the juncture of his neck and left shoulder through the shirt.

Tsuzuki writhed, caught between fear and arousal. "Ahh..."

Muraki's lips nibbled along the side of Tsuzuki's neck. "I will eradicate his memory from your mind. I will brand you with pleasure where he once branded you with pain."

The stench of rotting flesh filled Tsuzuki's nostrils. Over Muraki's shoulder, he saw Saaga's body decomposing into a mass of wriggling maggots. Only the torso remained intact. There was twitching movement beneath the skin of the belly.

Tsuzuki wrenched Muraki away. "He's still alive!"

"Impossible. Without vision-"

The demon's stomach exploded, splattering blood and entrails everywhere. A horrible beast clambered out, its entire body coated in sticky black liquid, fur plastered to its long body. It stared at both men with piercing grey eyes.

"Meow!"

Tsuzuki gaped in amazement. The kitten was now a cat. A big cat. It was at least five times larger, its legs muscular and stocky, its muzzle long and broad like a miniature lion.

"You took your time," Muraki said. "Are you full now?"

The cat meowed as it padded over to them, trailing oily black liquid in its wake.

"It survived. How...?"

"It was hungry. Saaga provided it food, albeit unknowingly - probably the most noble act he's performed in his pathetic existence." He stepped away as the cat tried to rub itself against his legs. "No. You must have a bath first."

The cat yowled loudly, then sat down and began licking itself clean.

The demon's body was no more, replaced by a mound composed of black ashes. Tsuzuki watched them glitter in the sunlight as the wind dispersed them over the bay, all the while clutching his left shoulder to remind himself. Saaga would never trouble him again...but the demon's terrible fate only filled him with an ominous sense of unease.

"Is this what happens to those who let demons feed?" he asked.

"Only the weak ones." Muraki embraced him from behind. He gently pried Tsuzuki's hand free, then nuzzled his shoulder again. "Come. Let us go back to the clubhouse, then book into a hotel for tonight. I have been patient long enough."


	13. Seals and green eyed monsters

Thanks to demonprist, Gengkotsuya and sithwitch for helping to beta this. demonprist has also been an inspiration with character development. And thanks to everyone who has commented! The amount of encouragement is incredibly generous.

O has told me that Huis Ten Bosch means 'little house in the forest' in Dutch: the name of the Queen's castle.

miss kittin has done a gorgeous sketch of Muraki nibbling Tsuzuki's gloved hand - so very sexy. It's up at my homepage.

* * *

To the staff at the country club, they looked like battle-weary soldiers returning from the war front. The surgeon from Tokyo strode with his head slightly lowered, long silver bangs falling over his eyes, his once-pristine white coat stained with soot and blood. Beside him, separated by several feet, his companion walked with arms folded across his chest, black sunglasses concealing his eyes. Although his dark coat appeared to be in better condition, the tails were singed and ragged. 

Stride for stride, their steps were perfectly synchronised despite their distance apart. Between them walked a big cat, head held high, its matted grey fur sticking up at odd angles.

Did they have an argument?

No, not at all, Muraki reassured them. It was a freak lightning strike, nothing more. He was uninjured, and so was his companion. Unfortunately the fifth hole hadn't fared so well.

He had smiled at Tsuzuki then, a feral grin of triumph. Tsuzuki chose to ignore it.

When the manager of the course caught sight of the cat, he politely but firmly insisted Muraki step into his office. Doctor or no doctor - no one was supposed to bring pets onto the golf course. An official reprimand was in order.

* * *

Tsuzuki eyed Muraki's car. Without the car keys, he had no choice but to wait outside. Using his powers to enter the car wasn't practical - there was always the danger of being caught in public. 

He looked at his bare hands, now dry from being exposed to the air. They looked no different to him. He peered at the creases of his palms, searching for pores or holes - something to explain the torrent of water and ice.

_You were the one who defeated him. I merely nourished what lies dormant inside you._

Tsuzuki shoved his hands in his pockets, his heart pounding in his chest. He remembered the scrape of Muraki's nails against his shoulder blade - the sensation of being marked. Something was changing within him. He would be a fool to deny it any longer. How else could he explain his new powers? Or the pain that coursed along his back - the agony Muraki knew how to ease with his touch?

But this wasn't like Saaga's possession. His mind was still his own - for the time being. He still had control over his abilities, didn't he?

He held out his arm, palm forward like a policeman stopping traffic, and tried to summon the water again. He shut his eyes and thought of waves gushing forth to flood everything in their path. He imagined torrential rain drenching the earth.

Nothing happened. Not even a drop of water.

Tsuzuki looked at his palm. Was there a spell to recite? But he didn't speak a word when he attacked Saaga with water. It simply poured forth, obedient to his will.

So maybe he needed Muraki's touch to access Water.

Tsuzuki clenched his hand into a fist. If he needed Muraki's assistance, then he would do without Water. He couldn't afford to depend on Muraki for his powers. His conflicted feelings of lust notwithstanding, Muraki was still the enemy.

Seated on the hood of the car, the cat cleaned itself with indolent carelessness, seemingly unaffected by its growth spurt. It paused in its cleaning routine to watch him.

"You looked cuter as a kitten."

The cat tilted its head at him, then went back to licking its paw.

Tsuzuki reached inside his trenchcoat and pulled out the list. He still didn't know the creature's name. From the look of the soggy ink-smeared papers, they weren't going to be much use. His heart sank as he squinted at the smudged print. This entire day was turning out to be a complete waste of time.

"Excuse me, sir."

Before him stood two young women from the country club. They wore the traditional Dutch dress of colourful striped skirts, black aprons decorated with bright flowers at the waist, black jackets with flowery shawls, and peaked lace caps. On their feet they wore wooden clogs.

Tsuzuki shoved the papers back into his coat, then propped his glasses on his head so he could see them better. "Hi! How can I help you?"

They looked at each other and blushed. One of them burst into embarrassed giggles.

"Is this your car? Do you mind if we take a look at it?"

"Ahh...it's not really my car..."

The giggling one walked around him to peer inside. "It's so cool! I've never seen a Ferrari before!"

"Me neither. I see Porsches now and then, but never a Ferrari." Her friend gaped at the rear engine, visible from behind its transparent glass cover. "What's the fastest speed you've reached? Do you get pulled over by the traffic police a lot?"

"No, no." Tsuzuki let out a sheepish laugh. "We make sure to stay within the speed limits." He sobered suddenly as he remembered his work. "Speeding is dangerous, you know."

The giggling one lifted her head from the window. "Can you take me for a ride? Please? I want to sit in a car like this before I die!"

The cat yowled at her, baring its fangs.

Tsuzuki pulled her away from the animal. "Someone so young and pretty shouldn't think such morbid thoughts."

The other girl grabbed his arm. "You must be rich to afford a car like this! What work do you do? Do you live around here? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Tsuzuki laughed and tried to disengage himself. "I don't have time for such things! I'm too busy working..." He saw the quizzical looks they gave him. "...on my golf game."

"Oh, please, let me sit in the car. I promise I won't touch anything!"

"I can't believe a man as good-looking as you doesn't have a girlfriend!" Her friend rested her head on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Are you doing anything this evening? I finish work in a couple of hours."

Tsuzuki blushed bright red. Despite all his years as a human, then as a Shinigami, he never knew how to refuse a pretty face. "I...umm...that's nice of you to offer but-"

A prickling sensation at the back of his neck made him turn around.

It was Muraki, standing directly behind him, unmoving apart from the silver hair that fell over his forehead. In his white suit, he looked as immaculate as ever - the soiled trenchcoat was draped over one arm.

"Excuse me." Muraki's gaze pinned Tsuzuki to the spot. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Uh...no, not at all. These ladies here were interested in your car."

Both women were transfixed, like rabbits caught in the headlight of his aura. They stared at him with round eyes, lips parted in wonder, too awestruck to respond.

Muraki's gaze drifted from their hands - clutching each of Tsuzuki's arms - up to Tsuzuki's flushed face. "Not only my car, I see."

Tsuzuki lowered his head, feeling oddly guilty and annoyed with himself. He knew he hadn't done anything wrong.

Muraki graced both women with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I am afraid Tsuzuki-san and I are in a hurry to leave. Perhaps we can take you for a ride the next time we visit."

His velvet voice awoke them from their enchantment. They released Tsuzuki as once.

"Thank you so much, sensei!"

"Yes, please! I'll be looking forward to it!"

Muraki bowed to them. "Good day, ladies." But when he lifted his head, his penetrating gaze was fixed only on Tsuzuki.

They bowed in return and scattered like pheasants before the hunter's rifle. Neither man noticed their absence.

"Did you call them over?"

"They were curious about the car, so they came to have a look. I just happened to be here as well." Tsuzuki shifted uneasily under Muraki's unblinking stare. "What's wrong with me talking to other people?"

"Are you sure you didn't summon them?"

"Summon them? You mean like shikigami?" Tsuzuki laughed, his tension evaporating. "Of course not! They have their own free will."

Muraki raised his brows, but his tension eased a little. "Am I hearing this correctly? You, as a Shinigami responsible for summoning souls to the afterlife, believe humans on earth possess free will?"

"The living don't have a say in the circumstances surrounding their birth or death, but they are given the freedom to make choices during their lifetime. The activities of the living are beyond the jurisdiction of JuOhCho. The only exception is when there are aberrations between the souls entering Meifu compared to the expected numbers according to the Kiseki - that's when we Shinigami are called in to investigate." He paused to look at Muraki, his expression serious. "As you well know."

"So I do." Muraki grinned, unrepentant. "But I don't have to resort to such drastic measures anymore. I am a changed man now that you are here."

Tsuzuki snorted in disbelief. "You have more power at your command than ever before, and a little friend to assist you in your schemes." He pointed at the cat. "If anything, I suspect you've changed for the worst."

The cat meowed loudly at Tsuzuki.

"Maybe so. But I'm not the only one who's changing, ne?"

Tsuzuki's eyes flashed. "What do you know about it?"

"There's no need to fear change, Tsuzuki-san. It's merely a part of growing up." Muraki unlocked the car. "Come, let us leave before the young ladies return to tear you from limb to limb. I recognised the look in their eyes all too well."

* * *

Muraki drove through the Huis Ten Bosch resort, past wooden windmills with blades lazily slicing the humid air, bright beds of bobbing tulips hugging cobblestone roads, narrow canals with little cruise boats carrying snap-happy tourists, and rows of terrace houses in hues of white, dark brown, slate grey and terracotta. 

Tsuzuki's nose was glued to the window while the cat dozed in his lap, a heavy weight that smelt of sulphur and ash. This place looked nothing like Japan at all. Only the ethnicity of the people they passed seemed a little out of kilter with the image of a Dutch trading port. And the odd taxi cab.

"So much for being a faithful reproduction of a 17th Century town," he muttered as one of the vintage cars trundled past.

Muraki smiled. "The tourists don't mind. Their fascination with history extends only so far; they still want their modern conveniences when they return to their rooms at the end of the day. Considering the hotel tariff, I can hardly blame them."

"So you've been here before?"

"Once. I attended a conference held here a few years ago. It left a great impression on me, so I wanted you to see it. This beautiful historical façade cannibalised from the Old World is merely an empty shell of rosy memories. This is the Netherlands for tourists who long for quaint prettiness without the ugliness of modern reality - a decadent monument to humanity's infinite capacity for self-delusion." He cast Tsuzuki a sidelong look. "I thought you would feel right at home here."

Tsuzuki stared out the window, and said nothing.

Their destination was Hotel Den Haag, a grand brick-red building with tall rectangular windows gilded in white and topped by steeply sloping slate grey rooftops. A big sailing ship was moored before the hotel, sails neatly furled, its three masts taller than the hotel itself. Tsuzuki went to admire it while Muraki took out the golf bag.

"Amazing! I didn't know such ships were still in working condition."

"They aren't. This is a replica of a 19th century Dutch warship. The original is either at the bottom of the ocean or rotted away thanks to termites."

Tsuzuki shielded his eyes from the sun to admire it. "Replica or not, it's still beautiful."

"It's merely a rickety wooden boat." Muraki grabbed Tsuzuki and dragged him into the hotel with one arm, while the other pulled the golf bag. "Come, we must check in."

"Hey! Aren't we going to take a look around?"

"I have to feed. If you're in the mood later, we can have dinner and explore the grounds."

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki lowered his voice to a harsh whisper as a bellhop took the golf bag. "You are out of your mind!" But there was a kindling heat within his groin, and his insides were twisting with anticipation.

"Out of my mind for you? Certainly - guilty as charged. But you must believe in yourself, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki slid one hand around his waist and nuzzled his ear. "I know you can do it."

Tsuzuki tried to writhe free as they made their way across the lobby. "Don't do this in public, idiot!"

Sharp teeth bit his earlobe, and the arm around his waist became a stranglehold. "You hypocrite. You let those women touch you, but you forbid me to do the same."

"That's different! They aren't like you!"

"Did you enjoy it?" Muraki sneered. "Did you prefer their mindless fawning? Would you rather bask in the attention of those beneath you, reassured of your own superiority?"

"What?"

But Muraki was no longer listening. He released Tsuzuki and began talking to the concierge about a room for the night, once again his charming debonair self.

The quicksilver shift in manner left Tsuzuki bemused. Could Muraki be jealous? Did he wish the girls had flocked to him instead? But surely Muraki noticed the way they hung onto his every word, virtually ignoring Tsuzuki the second they saw him. What more could he want? Even now, talking to the concierge about the limited vacancies during the holiday season, Muraki managed to secure a room for the night with ease.

Such skill in dealing with people was a talent Tsuzuki envied. It was amazing how easily others fell captive to Muraki's charm. What was it about him? Tsuzuki wished he could exercise a fraction of the same command over others. The women hadn't hesitated to grab him like a stuffed toy - but with Muraki they were deferential of his personal space. The way they treated him - it was as if they knew he was not like other mortals.

Even Saagatanus - he had mocked Muraki too, but there had been a trace of deference in his manner when speaking to him. Grudging admiration of a subordinate to his superior. Tsuzuki had never heard a demon address a human in such a way before.

And of course, there was the way Muraki manipulated him. What about the demon alliance? What about the feline? He was no closer to an answer to any of these questions, but here he was, placidly going along with Muraki's plans. He was no better than any of them - in fact, he was worse because he knew what Muraki was, yet followed him anyway.

Brooding over this as they were taken up to their room, he didn't realise something was amiss until they were in the elevator with the bellhop.

"Where's your cat?"

Muraki blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your cat." Tsuzuki looked down at Muraki's feet, expecting to see the animal curled around his legs. "Didn't you bring it with you?"

"Pets are forbidden in this establishment," the bellhop told them.

"I completely agree with such regulations. The presence of animals would be most unhygienic and a potential health hazard." Muraki looked closely at Tsuzuki. "You must be mistaken, Tsuzuki-san. Are you sure you took your tablets this morning?"

"Tablets? I'm not on any-"

"You forgot again, didn't you? It's just as well I brought them along with me." With one hand, Muraki lifted his jaw. His nails pressed against the underside of his jaw as he kissed Tsuzuki lightly on the forehead - a silent threat clothed in tenderness. "Don't worry about the imaginary cat any longer."

Tsuzuki nodded and pulled away, more to avoid attention from the curious bellhop than to please Muraki. So where was the cat? He tried using his spiritual sense, and could definitely sense something. Was it invisible to his eyes? Was it now so powerful it knew how to hide from him?

Inside their luxuriously appointed suite, he discovered the truth. The moment Muraki shut the door, the cat leapt out of the golf bag onto the thick pile carpet.

"Bath for you," Muraki said. He shrugged out of his jacket, took off his tie and began folding up the sleeves of his shirt.

The four-poster bed, completewith a lace canopy, took pride of place by the large windows. It was covered with a cream damask bedspread decorated with twining leaves and roses. Matching ruffled pillows were scattered before the ornate headboard. It was the type of bed a bride would choose for a Western-themed honeymoon - lavishly romantic and feminine with an antique charm.

Tsuzuki gawked at it, fascinated and horrified. This was wrong, all wrong. His heart hammered in his chest as he imagined what they would be doing on it later.

Muraki squeezed his shoulder. "Believe me, I share your eagerness. But first things first - we must cleanse ourselves before we come to you. It would be sacrilegious if we came to you tainted with that worm's blood, ne?"

Tsuzuki shook him off. "Don't talk such nonsense. This has nothing to do with me."

Muraki's lips thinned. "As you wish." He turned on his heel and went into the bathroom.

Tsuzuki blinked. More accustomed to Muraki fondling him against his will, he couldn't quite believe Muraki's ready acquiescence. It could only be a temporary truce - later he would revert to his usual demanding self.

From the window he could see the sparkling blue water of Omura Bay. He placed his palms on the window sill and took deep breaths in and out to calm his mind. Behind him, he could hear the sound of running water.

_Admit it. You want him. That's the real reason you're here._

Tsuzuki pulled out the crumpled list of names, covered in watermarks and ink stains. He flattened them against the glass and tried to memorise the few legible names left.

_You're no better than him. In fact you're worse - for all his delusional thinking, at least he is honest about his needs._

Tsuzuki scrunched the papers into a tight ball and hurled them to the floor.

Muraki was still the puppet master, manipulating everyone around him - including demons and one foolish Shinigami. Saagatanus was summoned and destroyed, his demonic feline absorbing the energy to become a stronger entity - all of it was in accordance with Muraki's plans. The surge of water that erupted from his hands...that was Muraki's doing too.

He was under no illusion that Muraki was his ally. Muraki engineered the entire confrontation with Saaga, and in doing so mocked Duke Ashitarote's authority by annihilating one of his chosen deputies. Even EnmaDaiOh did not escape Muraki's thinly-veiled contempt.

This was not the behaviour of a human working under a demonic contract - such damned individuals hid their relationship with the demon world, preferring to work in secret to avoid discovery from humans and other demons.

Tsuzuki rested his forehead against the window pane. Maybe Muraki was insane, but that didn't explain the chaos he wrought around him.

Unless...

_A binding alliance ratified by blood._

_For no other would I willingly sacrifice so much._

For all Muraki's sneering condescension, Tsuzuki could tell he was suffering. His desperation to 'feed,' the visible hollows at the base of his neck, his cachectic physique of skin and bone...

"No." Tsuzuki clenched his hands into fists, his white knuckles pressing against the window sill. "I just wanted the pain to end. We who hurt others richly deserve our punishment - but I never intended you to suffer like this."

_A familiar must feed from its master to survive. So must I feed from you._

"You're the liar, Muraki. I can't see you serving any master, least of all me."

Cold wetness lined his palms and trickled between the web of his fingers.

But it was his name on Muraki's false eye. It was the scars from his stabbing that adorned Muraki's side like a grotesque brand. These were all signs of his own culpability for Muraki's demonic covenant. The standard procedure for dealing with a human held under a contract was drilled into all Shinigami as part of their training - the demon had to be exorcised then bound, the contract severed. Then, and only then, could the individual be sent to JuOhCho for judgment.

He should have known. He, who had dealt with Muraki in person on several occasions, knew the man was more than human, yet never thought more about it. The Shoukanka never ordered an investigation, and he went along with their decision as befitting a model employee. Ignorance was bliss - until it haunted one later with the twin spectres of guilt and regret.

"My mistake, my responsibility," he muttered to himself. "I will replace the blood that was spilled. I will exorcise this demon. I will break this covenant if it's the last thing I do!"

A twinge of prickling heat sizzled across his shoulder blades.

Tsuzuki pulled his coat off and let it fall to the floor, followed by his jacket. He reached around to scratch his back...and found the palm of his hand was soaking wet. His other palm was the same.

Quickly he held out both arms in front of him, and focused his mind. He thought of swollen rivers breaking their banks, massive waves crashing against sandstone cliffs. He did his best to think of water's destructive power.

Nothing. But at least the heat over his back was gone.

Hopelessly perplexed, he bent to pick up his clothes. He had enough problems to deal with without adding his unpredictable powers to the mix.

Silence fell over the suite as the running water stopped. There were no splashing noises to be heard. He couldn't even hear the sound of Muraki's voice.

Quietly Tsuzuki went to the bathroom doorway to investigate.

Polished marble tiles in hues of cream and peach lined the floor and walls. The fittings were polished brass. Muraki knelt by the claw-foot bath, forearms resting on the edge. Perched on the far end of the bath was the cat, clinging to the porcelain as it eyed the bath in wide-eyed horror.

"Is grey its new colour?" Tsuzuki asked.

"That's what we're about to find out." Muraki held out his hand to the cat. "Come now."

The cat meowed plaintively and refused to move closer.

Muraki sighed. "I understand." He reached out to scratch behind its ears. "But you fed off that worm and survived, ne? You have nothing to fear."

The cat meowed again.

"This is for your own good." Muraki picked it up by the scruff of the neck and, ignoring the yowls of protest, firmly lowered it into the bath.

"Hey! It might drown!"

Muraki merely smiled. "Not at all. Look."

The cat was in the bath, its head visible. The water level was only a quarter full, allowing it to stand in the bath. Its legs moved like little pistons as it waded through the water.

"I didn't know cats could swim." Tsuzuki knelt by the bath to watch. The cat squinted up at him and yowled pitifully. "It doesn't seem too happy about it."

"It has more reason than most to dislike water." When Muraki tried to stroke the creature, it hissed and swiped at his hand. "Fool," he scolded it. "No demon can live by fire alone. Remember what happened to Saaga today."

The cat became still. It let Muraki stroke the fur on its head and behind its ears.

"That is better." He scooped some water into his palm and let it trickle over the creature's head. Apart from scrunching its eyes shut, it remained still. "This day I cleanse you with water, but there is one who will come after me, one whose name I am not worthy to utter; he will replenish you anew with all five of the elements: Fire's heat, Earth's fecundity, Water's purity, Metal's strength, and Wood's vigour. May he reveal himself soon to us, the wretched souls who await deliverance."

The cat opened its eyes and blinked at him.

Tsuzuki felt an odd sensation inside him. A slight itch began across his shoulder blades. "Is...is this a prayer?"

"An old one that has gone unanswered for too long." Muraki's smile was oddly wistful. "Could you pass me the shampoo bottle?"

Muraki poured a generous amount in the water. The cat meowed as froth and bubbles clung to its fur. Its frantic paddling only created more foam, which annoyed it further.

"You're only making it worse for yourself," Muraki said.

Tsuzuki took pity on it. He held out his hands to the animal. "You poor thing. Come here."

The cat yowled in terror. It scrambled back to Muraki and scrabbled against the side of the bath, its front claws sliding over the porcelain. It fell back in with a big splash, drenching Muraki.

Muraki snorted. "Enough of this nonsense!"

The cat took a running jump and leapt out of the bath into Muraki's arms. Muraki grimaced as he found himself holding a wet writhing mass of fur in his arms.

"What did I do wrong?" Tsuzuki blinked in astonishment. "I was only trying to help."

Muraki looked from him to the cat, then back to him again. "Let me see your hands."

"Why?"

"It fears your hands. Show them to me."

Reluctantly Tsuzuki held them palm up to reveal their glistening dampness.

Muraki was mesmerised. "You never once touched the bath water. Did you do this yourself?"

"I...I'm not sure. It just happened a few minutes ago, before I came in."

"I see." He placed the cat on the floor and reached for a towel hanging on a nearby rack. "Let me dry them for you."

"It's all right." Awkwardly Tsuzuki wiped his hands on his trousers. "I didn't think your cat would mind - I mean, it was already soaked-"

"I want to do this for you," Muraki insisted. He shook his head when Tsuzuki tried to take the towel. "This is my responsibility and privilege." Still on his knees, he gestured to the toilet with its closed lid. "Please be seated."

His manner was deferential, yet Tsuzuki recognised the implied order. Puzzled, he decided to follow Muraki's bizarre request. If he was going to wrestle Muraki from the covenant, he couldn't afford to anger him over trivial matters.

The cat scurried behind Muraki for protection. It tentatively peeked out as Muraki knelt before Tsuzuki and enclosed both his hands in a fluffy towel.

"It remembers what you did to Saagatanus," Muraki explained. He lifted one of Tsuzuki's hands, now covered with the towel, and gently dried between each finger. "Without the use of fuda or shikigami, you extinguished it yourself. What you did today will shake the foundations of the Demon World."

"I didn't do anything. You were the one who channelled power through me. Who does it belong to? Where does it come from?"

"Hush, hush." Muraki's voice was gentle. "Change is an inevitable part of growing up. There is nothing to fear."

"I'm already an adult, you idiot! I've lived for several decades longer than you."

Muraki was drying the thumb and the palm, rubbing the towel over his skin. "I am not referring to your corporeal form." He looked up at Tsuzuki, his gaze earnest and intense. "Can't you feel the change in your powers? Doesn't it excite you? Don't you want to learn how to wield them to your advantage?"

"I have no use for powers loaned to me from another. Tell your demon it can keep its power to itself." He looked at the cat, still cowering behind Muraki. Something wasn't right. If it was responsible for the covenant, why did it fear his wet hands? Surely this would be in accordance with its plans.

"Such wilful blindness. Enma has you well and truly under his thumb." Muraki shook his head as he began to dry the other hand.

"Why is your cat hiding? Water won't affect it, especially now that it's trapped in physical form. It survived within Saaga's belly as a parasite even as its host drowned."

Muraki turned. "Are you listening? Even Tsuzuki-san recognises your foolishness."

The cat meowed, and rubbed its head against Muraki's hip.

"Unfortunately it still thinks like a demon," Muraki explained. "All demons fear an attack of elemental Water - to have one's Fire extinguished is to risk annihilation. All their huffing and puffing is merely hot air." His voice was mocking, but it was difficult to say who was the target of his sarcasm. "They know that without their Fire, they are not worthy of the title demon at all. They are simply dogs chained to the dead hand of Ashitarote's puppet governance."

The cat meowed again as if in agreement.

"You are little better," he said to the cat. "Your only purpose in life is to eat and make a nuisance of yourself."

The cat mewed plaintively.

"Puppet governance?" Tsuzuki repeated. "But Duke Ashitarote is the ruler of the demon hierarchy. How can someone else tell him what to do?"

"Demons are not what they once were. They accept the meagre concessions granted by the powers that reside in Meifu, pitifully eager for the scraps thrown their way. They are willing to sacrifice and cannibalise their own to preserve their fragile existence." Muraki's lower lip curled in disgust. "They have forgotten their heritage, so this is their punishment."

"You know a great deal about demon affairs," Tsuzuki commented.

Muraki began to dry the other hand with meticulous care. "And you do not as Enma's right-hand man?"

"I'm merely a Shinigami assigned to the Kyushu area. We follow the directives of the JuOhCho court administration - the menial jobs that keep the court proceedings running smoothly. The affairs of the demon hierarchy are not my concern."

Muraki cast him a sceptical look. "Then why do you keep so many shikigami?"

"Often the cases I work on involve demons, and I'm called in to fight them."

"Using all twelve?"

"Well, no - one is enough. I rely on Suzaku and her Fire the most - and she causes enough damage by herself without summoning the others to join in." Tsuzuki shrugged sheepishly. "It's hardly any wonder I don't see any of my wages: I'm too busy paying repair bills."

"You should summon the Holy Dragon. He is one of your shikigami, ne?" Muraki slowly worked the towel between each of Tsuzuki's fingers. "His Water would drown any demonic fire with ease, and perhaps avoid the same damage."

"Water damage instead of Fire damage, huh?" Tsuzuki chuckled. "Souryuu doesn't like to be disturbed without good reason, though. He has his hands full keeping the peace among the spirits of Gensoukai."

"Maybe so, but he has pledged to serve you. If you do not summon him, he will think you do not need him and become lax in his service."

Tsuzuki looked at Muraki curiously. How strange it felt to discuss his shikigami with another person. He seldom talked about his shikigami to others in the Shoukanka. After all, he didn't want to appear boastful or arrogant, and he knew some of his workmates - especially Terazuma - were envious of the power he could wield.

But Muraki didn't seem to mind at all. He wasn't jealous or awestruck - maybe he could afford to be blasé after dealing with unpredictable and capricious demons. Or perhaps Muraki wanted to learn about his shikigami for his own nefarious purposes. He claimed Tsuzuki's power was superior to his shikigami, but Tsuzuki didn't believe it for a moment. In any case, he would be a fool to tell Muraki too much.

"I don't need to summon Sourryu that often. Suzaku's Fire power is more than a match for any demon."

"As it should be. The Red Bird is Fire incarnate - all others are smouldering embers in comparison." Muraki finished patting the other hand dry. "There, all done." He traced one of the palms with his index finger. "You have such beautiful hands, Tsuzuki-san. Long and slender, yet imbued with such power..." He lifted it up to kiss the back of one hand.

Tsuzuki turned red, and pulled his hand away. "How did you survive Suzaku's flames in Nagasaki? You never explained to me how you managed such a feat."

"You never asked."

"I'm asking now."

Muraki sat back on his knees, an amused smile playing about his lips. "So you are, but I fear you will not believe the truth if I were to tell you."

Tsuzuki rested his elbows on his thighs so he could look Muraki in the eye. "How can you expect me to believe your claims about my power when you never reveal the source behind your own? I can only take you seriously if you have evidence to back up your statements. Why, for all I know, you could merely be Saagatanus's 'false prophet'."

Muraki's good eye narrowed. "Saaga knows nothing. He lived as he died - a dog to the end." He pulled out a pair of violet gloves from his trouser pocket and almost threw them into Tsuzuki's lap. "You are never to repeat that worm's words to me again. I will not tolerate such heresy, even from you. Now put these on."

"You brought along a spare?"

"I keep several for emergencies. You must wear them until you have greater mastery of your powers. It was remiss of me to leave you ungloved for so long."

Tsuzuki slipped his hands into them and did up the cuffs, but he wasn't pleased about it. "But I defeated Saaga on my own," he challenged, hurling Muraki's words back at him. "Just now I made water appear on my hands. Isn't that a sign of greater mastery?"

Muraki snorted as he rose to his feet. "No master would idly summon an elemental power without conscious thought."

"It wasn't like that! I _was_ thinking at the time-"

"Of what? Those young women?" His thin lips curled in disgust.

Tsuzuki looked blankly at Muraki. "You mean at the golf course?"

"Were you thinking of how to impress them? Perhaps you could offer them a glass of iced water. I'm sure they would be thrilled with such infantile trickery." Muraki turned away and hurled the towel to the floor. "Perhaps if you practised long enough, you could serve soda water and iceblocks-"

"No, dammit! I hardly know them! I was thinking of...of..."

Muraki looked at him over his shoulder. "Of what?"

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze as the truth hit home: during the battle with Saagatanus, and here in the hotel suite, it was the thought of one person alone that brought Water forth. "Why does it matter who or what I was thinking about? We both know this power is no more mine than you are!"

Muraki chuckled without humour as he swung around. "You are such a hopeless liar, Tsuzuki-san. Do you think you can fool me?" He seized Tsuzuki's wrist and pulled him to his feet. "Come. I think it's time I reminded you of your prior obligations."

"Obligations? What-" Tsuzuki stumbled after him. "But what about your cat?"

The feline peered up from beneath the towel Muraki had thrown on the floor.

"It knows where to find us."

Muraki only released him when they reached the four-poster bed. Tsuzuki, for all his outward reluctance, didn't resist.

"You said you know how to undress yourself, ne?" Muraki began to undress by pulling the ends of his shirt free of his trousers. "And you did such a good job last time." His grey eyes, false and true, cut through Tsuzuki's clothes like a knife.

"Muraki, I..." Tsuzuki took a nervous step back. He suddenly wished he had kept his coat and jacket on. "Let me explain what happened with those ladies-"

"I know already." With one hand, Muraki undid his collar button with a sharp twist of nimble fingers. "They took one look at you and wanted you. Even with their minuscule spiritual sense, they knew you could fill what they lacked within themselves."

"No, idiot! They just wanted to look at your car!"

Muraki took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. "If you recall, Tsuzuki-san, it wasn't my car they were fondling." The rest of the buttons of Muraki's linen shirt came undone, one by one.

"They were just...being friendly." Tsuzuki couldn't drag his gaze from Muraki's torso. In the afternoon sun, he could clearly see the prominence of Muraki's ribcage, the concavity of his abdomen. All skin and bone...

"Is that what you call it?" With his shirt open, Muraki shrugged it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. In the light of day, the scars stood out as angry purple-red slashes, appearing even darker against his pale skin that Tsuzuki remembered. He strode towards Tsuzuki and seized his jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Then why don't we be 'friendly' this very minute, Tsuzuki-san? If you can be friendly with them, you can do the same for me." With that, Muraki kissed him hard.

His ravenous brutality sparked Tsuzuki's desire in a way loving tenderness never could. His gloved hands came around to clutch Muraki's shoulder blades, restlessly shifting up and down his spine, tracing sharp bone and lean flesh. He arched up into the kiss, lips parting freely, all the better to accommodate Muraki's aggression.

Their journey here, the golf game, even the battle with Saagatanus might never have been - their lust simply arced across the missing hours, continuing from where they left off in Muraki's apartment.

Muraki's hands wrenched at his belt, almost tearing at the fly of Tsuzuki's trousers in his eagerness. "Tsuzuki-san...help me..."

Tsuzuki wasn't listening. He pressed biting kisses against the pale skin clinging to the bones of Muraki's shoulder, savouring the sweat that dewed his skin and the twitch of living muscle. He swept across the scars, blindly tracing their contours with his gloved hands. Even through the velvet fabric, he could still feel their irregular texture and varying thickness, a network of markings that would have slain a normal man.

"I must feed," Muraki muttered against Tsuzuki's ear. "This way is the best. The essence is strongest here." He yanked Tsuzuki's belt free of the loops, unzipped the fly, then reached inside.

"Ahhh." Tsuzuki bucked wildly, eyes glazing over as Muraki stroked his cock from shaft to crown, and back down again in a steady sure rhythm. His trousers and underpants slid off, leaving him clad in his white shirt and tie. "Muraki...don't..."

"Don't be so greedy." Muraki's voice was a low husky growl. "I have indulged you twice - no, three times if you count this afternoon. Do you want to drain me until I am an empty husk?" Abruptly he released Tsuzuki and shoved him back against the mattress, then pulled the rest of Tsuzuki's clothing free of his ankles.

Tsuzuki sat up, still wearing his shirt, and tore at his own tie to loosen it. Saliva filled his mouth as he remembered how he'd tasted Muraki earlier. "Muraki...I didn't finish that first time..."

"Not now." Muraki clambered between Tsuzuki's legs and seized his erection, making him groan aloud. "You have been spoiled for too long - indulged to excess. I vowed never to fall into the same trap, but I never knew how persuasive you could be. You beguiled me as cleverly as you trick everyone around you." He lowered his head and nibbled the velvet soft crown with his lips until he tasted precome oozing from the slit. "Mmm." He lapped at it with his tongue while his hand remained firm over the shaft. "Delicious."

Tsuzuki shook his head in denial, even as his cock throbbed within Muraki's grasp. The wet caresses against his cock elicited a pleasure so rich and refined he found it intolerable to bear. He grabbed Muraki's silver hair and tried to pull him off. Muraki seized his wrist and held it by his side.

"Stop...please..."

"There's no turning back - not now, not ever. I won't be swayed by your entreaties again."

A throaty growl left Tsuzuki's throat. "Muraki...you..." He writhed against the bed, squirming to free himself, but Muraki's weight pinned his trembling lower legs.

"This imbalance cannot continue any longer!" he snarled. His steely gaze hypnotised Tsuzuki. "The cycles are chaotic, the elements in discord. This is the only way left." He bent his head and took Tsuzuki into his mouth.

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. He gasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he twisted against the ecstasy. His hands gripped the bedspreadbeneath him, balling the material between his clenched fingers.

For all Muraki's icy impatience, there was nothing cold about his mouth. Warm, wet and welcoming, he enveloped Tsuzuki without hesitation, his tongue whipping around the shaft while his throat relaxed to draw Tsuzuki deeper with painstaking slowness.

"You're...you're torturing me. Damn you..."

Muraki sighed, his breath warm against Tsuzuki's groin. He slid his mouth back to expose the shaft to the shock of cool air, and lapped over the delicate crown once more. His hair fell over Tsuzuki's groin and thighs, tickling his skin and obscuring Tsuzuki's view. All Tsuzuki could see was a silver cascade between his legs, the hunched shoulders on either side and the bony arm that reached up to grip his gloved wrist - all gilded a burnished gold by the afternoon sun.

He looked so thin and pale. Was this 'feeding' so much to ask? Tsuzuki wasn't even sure it would work...but if it helped him, even a little...

Tsuzuki squeezed his eyes shut as Muraki went down on him again. He didn't have to see - he could feel the slick hardness of teeth against his shaft, the yielding warmth as he slid against the inside of a cheek, the insistent caress of Muraki's tongue. Fear and excitement coiled within his gut at the conflicting mix of sensations.

Who was he kidding? He wanted this, needed this, as much as Muraki.

Sensing his waning resistance, Muraki let the cock slide free and tossed his hair back to look Tsuzuki's way. "This is how it should be between us. This is the completion of the cycle that binds us together, the one you set in motion with your own hand."

Tsuzuki struggled to get his gasping breaths under control. "What...cycle..."

"As you drained me once, so you will restore me anew. But like any cycle, it can switch direction, ne?" Tilting his head to one side, he ran the edge of his teeth along the thickness of Tsuzuki's shaft.

A whimper left Tsuzuki's throat. His heart pounded in his chest, every muscle tensed as he dreaded Muraki's next move. To pull away would risk agonising injury, but to remain still was no less of a gamble. This implicit threat couldn't be ignored. For all the pleasure they gave each other, this exquisite intimacy was no less dangerous than fighting Saagatanus. But Tsuzuki stayed where he was, held down by fear of pain...and the wild hope of release.

"But not yet." Muraki's voice was husky and soft as he chastely kissed the slit. "Not for a long time yet." Holding Tsuzuki's gaze, Muraki took his erection, gleaming with saliva and precome, into his mouth.

Watching was the last straw. Physical sensation and vision converged together in a lightning bolt that short-circuited reason and doubt.

Tsuzuki couldn't say no any longer: not to Muraki nor himself.

Falling back against the bed, Tsuzuki arched his hips, guiding his cock into Muraki's throat.

It was exactly what Muraki wanted. He made a deep humming sound that sent delicious vibrations rippling from Tsuzuki's cock to encompass his entire body, and began sucking him off in earnest. He released Tsuzuki's wrist and guided his thighs up so his knees were bent.

Tsuzuki moaned, grateful for the shift in posture - now he could use his heels to rock in and out of Muraki's demanding mouth, a willing participant in his own enslavement. It was a different kind of pleasure to the rough urgency of fucking - a refined filigree of sweet sensation that blossomed at Muraki's touch, only to wind around his nerve endings and bind him with its tendrils of torturous bliss.

This felt so incredibly good. Tsuzuki revelled in this pleasure without question. Such selfishness was an indulgence he once reserved for food alone - so to focus purely on this gift was a luxury beyond price. Lost in the spell Muraki wove with his mouth, Tsuzuki felt like a god. What deity would turn away the offering of his most devoted follower? It would be nothing short of cruelty - for them both.

"Free yourself. Let yourself go." Muraki graced every inch of Tsuzuki's groin with the lash of his tongue, and caressed the testicles that rested tightly against his body. He tugged at them gently, guiding them down so he could suckle them with his lips. When they twitched and tried to escape, he chuckled and brought them down again. "Even you - there's no need to be shy. You don't have to hide any longer, ne?"

"Ahhh..." Tsuzuki's harsh panting breaths echoed in the room. That part of him was too sensitive - even Muraki's lightest touches felt like bittersweet agony. He grit his teeth to silence himself, but the room wasn't completely quiet - there was still the restless shift of their sweat-damp bodies, the faint creaking of the timber bed beneath them, and the wet sounds of Muraki's mouth. Tsuzuki shook his head wildly. He couldn't take much more of this. His hips were tiring, the muscles of his lower back knotting with tension. His shirt clung to his heaving chest, damp with sweat. With clumsy fingers he fumbled to undo the buttons, but this routine task was beyond him. He gave up after removing the first two.

Muraki released him for a moment. "How much longer...must I wait?" He let out a whimpering growl of frustration. "I feel the cracks...but I cannot hold out much longer."

"What?" With his mind so fogged with sensation, Tsuzuki could barely understand the words.

"So close..." Muraki sucked on his fingers, then slid them within Tsuzuki. Using his mouth he swallowed Tsuzuki's cock once more.

Tsuzuki cried out, his body jerking to life, his erection swelling to the point of pain. He tried to rock against the mattress, energised once more, but Muraki's weight pinned down his hips. All he could do was clutch the sheets and groan against the conflicting sensations that propelled his trembling body to the limit of its endurance.

His cock throbbed, his prostate ached - he wanted to come so badly. Anything to end such torturous pleasure...

"Please...Muraki, please..."

Muraki suddenly clambered up to lie on the bed beside him, gasping for breath. His eyes were scrunched shut in pain. Sweat dewed his forehead. His lips, glistening wet, were twisted into a rictus of unbearable torment.

Tsuzuki looked down. Muraki's trousers were taut across his groin, his erection straining against the cloth.

"The limitations...of the human form..." Muraki laughed bitterly. "Weak...fallible...never good enough..."

Shame filled Tsuzuki. So preoccupied with his own pleasure, he had forgotten about Muraki's. Awkwardly he sat up and dragged his half unbuttoned shirt over his head, then reached for Muraki's trousers. "Let me help."

Muraki shook his head, but he was too exhausted to resist. With narrowed glittering eyes, he watched Tsuzuki undo his belt and fly and yank everything off. His erection leapt into Tsuzuki's palm the moment he touched it, hard and hot and heavy even through the gloves.

Tsuzuki caressed it slowly, fascinated by the way it twitched under his fingers. The scent of male musk made his mouth water. "It's good enough for me," he murmured.

"Don't-"

Tsuzuki swooped.

Muraki grabbed his hair and yanked him away. "No!"

Tsuzuki didn't care. He squeezed the shaft, ignoring Muraki's anguished groan, until precome oozed over the crown. He caught the drops with his gloved fingers and brought it to his lips, but the fabric absorbed most of the liquid before he could taste it.

"Fool. You are going to pay for that later." Muraki pulled Tsuzuki down by his side and kissed him fiercely. His tongue invaded Tsuzuki's mouth as he tried to retrieve what had already been taken.

Tsuzuki broke free and ground their hips together. Their cocks rubbed against each other, a delicious friction that made them both tremble.

"You don't want to break it, do you?" Muraki muttered. "It's the only...logical explanation."

Tsuzuki wasn't interested in conversation. He clutched Muraki by the hip and shoulder to brace himself, and pushed his aching cock within the crevice between Muraki's thighs. The friction sent a welcome jolt of pleasure-pain up along his spine.

Muraki hissed, and his eyes flew open. His false eye glowed.

Tsuzuki saw he wasn't the only one who liked it. He thrust again and again, and imagined he was inside Muraki, fucking him properly, possessing him at last. The forbidden fantasy excited him further. He rolled himself on top of Muraki and picked up the pace.

Muraki gasped. The sensation of Tsuzuki's cock between his thighs, against the underside of his testicles felt good...too good. The rough insistency was more than he could bear. "Tsuzuki-san, stop..." He arched his hips to push Tsuzuki off. His movements only increased the friction between them.

"Why?" Tsuzuki's thrusts became more frenzied. His voice was slurred and thick against Muraki's ear. "You are mine - you said so." He slid one gloved hand along the scars over Muraki's waist, a testament to the truth of his words. Even through the gloves he could feel the fierce heat radiating from Muraki's pale skin. Tsuzuki gladly sank against him, pushing himself deeper, longing for the fire to consume his own being and meld them into one.

Muraki dug his nails into undulating buttocks, drawing blood from Tsuzuki's flesh. His teeth was clenched, his muscles locked as he fought Tsuzuki's irresistible rhythm, but his exhausted body couldn't hold out. He shuddered as he came beneath Tsuzuki, his seed spilling between them.

Gamely Tsuzuki continued for a few more minutes, but there was no more pleasure to be had. When the plateau of desire turned into discomfort, Tsuzuki eased his way down Muraki's body to lap at the remnants of semen splattered over his abdomen. He traced the shiny discoloured scars with his tongue, curious about their rippled texture.

Beneath him, Muraki panted, his abdomen trembling with each shaky breath. His finger clenched and relaxed spasmodically against the bedspread.

_Mine. _For the first time, Tsuzuki allowed himself to believe it. He moved lower to lick at Muraki's flaccid cock.

Muraki pushed him away with his knee. "Enough. You have done...more than enough." His eyelids were heavy as he regarded Tsuzuki. "Come lie with me."

Tsuzuki lay on his side to face him. "Are you all right now?"

"You almost sound like you care." Muraki reached up one hand to ruffle Tsuzuki's hair. "But you haven't fed me, and in the end you drained me again." His tone sounded light, almost amused. "You want me dead, don't you?"

"I want to rid you of the demon's influence. If you'd only tell me its name, I could break the covenant-"

Muraki placed a finger on his lips. "I don't want it broken."

Tsuzuki pushed it aside. "Why not? Look at yourself. Look at what it's doing to you."

"Shinigami, heal thyself," Muraki replied dryly. He glanced down at Tsuzuki's groin. "You are one to talk."

"What do you mean?"

"Your condition is not a result of any physical ailment or disease process. This is all Enma's doing. But I never realised until now how well he has you twisted around his finger."

"I...That's not true. I choose to serve EnmaDaiOh."

"But can't you see what he's done to you? He has sealed your essence along with your powers, and - worst of all- you comply with it! You ask me why I would work under the terms of a demonic covenant. Well, I ask you now - why do _you_ work under Enma's seal?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tsuzuki's voice was tight. "EnmaDaiOh provided me with everything: shikigami, fuda magic, all my powers...he granted them to me so I may serve as a Shinigami. When I have done things wrong, he has been my only advocate within the JuOhCho administration. He believed in me. He gave my existence a purpose."

Muraki said nothing for a long time. "I see. So the eagle is so charmed by its gilded cage it is willing to play a songbird. You're willing to deny your very nature to maintain a lie."

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. "I carry no mark on my body. My mind is still my own. You have no evidence to support your crazy claim."

"What about this?" Muraki ran his finger along the underside of Tsuzuki's erection. "You mistake a seal for possession if you think you must be visibly marked. If the subject is obedient, no mark is necessary or even desirable."

"Don't." Tsuzuki winced and slapped his wrist away.

"Your seal is strong but it has cracks, Tsuzuki-san. Your ability to harness Water to defeat Saaga is testament to its fragility - Enma would never entrust Fire's controlling element to a mere shinigami." He seized Tsuzuki's shoulder, his eyes alight. "If we work together, I know we can break it."

"Work with you?" Tsuzuki twisted away to lie on his back. "You've used and abused and manipulated others all your life. Do you think I'd be so dumb as to believe a word you say? You may have channelled power through me, but that doesn't make us allies. As a shinigami, I pledged my allegiance to EnmaDaiOh-sama. Seal or no seal - he is the one I serve."

"How noble you are," Muraki sneered. "How you disgust me. But it explains a great many things. As long as you uphold it, the seal will never be broken. A seal this strong must be broken from within as well as without. If a chick does not wish to leave the egg, there is no point breaking the shell to help it hatch, ne?"

Tsuzuki said nothing. He stared at the way sunlight fell on the wooden posts at the end of the bed, and the long shadows they cast on the far wall.

Maybe Muraki was right. Maybe he was sealed. His early memories of coming to Meifu were a blur, dimmed by the passage of time and his own desire to forget the past. But EnmaDaiOh must have had his reasons - good reasons. Tsuzuki was convinced of it.

Muraki spoke again, his voice low and angry. "So you will choose to remain blind to the suffering of your brethren, while we who wait grow more desperate day by day..."

Tsuzuki looked at him, puzzled by his abrupt silence. Muraki's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth bracketed with pain. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you care?" Muraki shook his head. "I'm too tired to argue any more. I must conserve what few resources I have left."

"But you...you did feed a little."

"What you gave me is not enough. The richest essence only comes in the complete ejaculate."

Muraki was crazy - Tsuzuki was convinced of it - but it was obvious he was suffering. "Is...is there any other way you can feed?"

"I wish there was." Muraki began to stroke the shaft of Tsuzuki's cock. He looked down at what he held, his expression a curious mix of hunger and resignation. "I know you only ask out of pity, but I have no pride left. Even this is better than nothing."

Hours of more sexual frustration stretched out ahead of him, as Muraki tortured and pleasured him until they both went mad. Unless...

"Wait." Tsuzuki moved away and sat up. "Where's your knife?"

Muraki's hand fell limply on the bed. "I may be weakened but my memories of our Kyoto encounter are vivid enough."

"I'm trying to help you, idiot! Where's your knife?"

Muraki shrugged as if he no longer cared. "Jacket - inside breast pocket."

Tsuzuki found the jacket, took out the penknife and flicked out the blade. It looked clean to the naked eye. To be on the safe side, Tsuzuki took it to the bathroom to rinse it under the tap. When he returned, he noticed the cat on the nightstand, its coat now silver grey, watching him with pale grey eyes.

Muraki remained lying on his side, but his eyes watched Tsuzuki's every move. "What are you doing?"

Slowly Tsuzuki seated himself on the bed and rested his back against the headboard. He took off his watch, then pushed down the glove cuff to reveal the scars over his right wrist. The flesh there would be less sensitive, but more difficult to lacerate deeply. It would be easier to slice the unmarked skin above the wrist.

He lifted the blade and made a single clean incision. A trickle of blood oozed across the wound.

Muraki froze. Both his true and false eyes glittered as he watched.

Tsuzuki held the blade over the wound, and sliced into it a second time. Blood flowed freely, dripping onto his thigh - most likely a lacerated vein. "Here." He sheathed the blade and held out his bleeding wrist. "Drink this."

Muraki sat up slowly. He stared at Tsuzuki's wrist, then searched his face.

"You've taken my spiritual energy this way before, ne?"

Muraki blinked at him, his expression a comical look of disbelief.

In other circumstances, Tsuzuki might have laughed. "Do you want it to go to waste?" Already blood oozed over the cuff of the glove.

Without another word, Muraki placed his lips over the wound and lapped at the blood with his tongue. He was gentle at first, his sucking tentative, almost reverential. It sent a thrill of languid pleasure up Tsuzuki's arm. Without thinking, he reached out to caress Muraki's tangled hair with his free hand, combing it with his gloved fingers.

Beneath Muraki's lips, the wound began to heal. Greedy for more, Muraki lashed his tongue over it and sucked harder.

"That's enough now." Tsuzuki tried to pull his wrist away.

Muraki clung to it. He nibbled at the bloodstained cuff and licked the wound again. When that failed, he bared his teeth.

Tsuzuki yanked him away by his hair. "I said enough."

Muraki's lips were stained with dried blood. The false eye glowed then dimmed as he remembered himself. "Forgive me. I...I wasn't expecting such generosity." He shook free of Tsuzuki's grip and lay back on the bed again. There was a slight flush in his cheeks. His entire body looked less pale than it did moments before.

Tsuzuki placed the penknife on the nightstand and lay next to Muraki. "Was that enough for you?"

"No...but it will do." His gaze was solemn as he studied Tsuzuki's face.

"Only this once," Tsuzuki warned him. He was secretly relieved - Muraki did look better. More alert, more spirited - more like his old self. "Don't think I'm going to do this on a regular basis."

Muraki nuzzled his nose against Tsuzuki's, then kissed him deeply. The metallic taste of blood lingered on his tongue, blending with the salty-bitter taste of precome. "You shed your blood so I may drink from it. This is as it should be. I am well pleased with you, Tsuzuki-san."

"You said you were disgusted with me."

"I am not one to hold a grudge in the face of such kindness." Muraki sighed lustily as he curled next to Tsuzuki. "I feel your fiery blood coursing through me, energising me anew. Let us try again to break the seal."

"But...but if you're already nourished, there's no need to try anything!"

"Of course there is a need. Blood is thick and sweet, but there is no substitute for essence, ne? Through essence, all things are made."

Tsuzuki wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. "I don't believe this. I think I've unleashed a monster."

"Not at all," Muraki drawled. He reached for Tsuzuki's still-erect cock. "That will come later."

* * *

Several hours later, when fake gaslight lamps lit the cobblestone streets of Huis Ten Bosch, smoke from the evening fireworks drifted away on the ocean breeze, and the sounds of Latin music - a medley of guitars and brass to an irresistible hip-swinging beat - echoed from the streets below, Muraki decided he needed a cigarette break. 

Hot and exhausted, lower back and limbs aching from their mutual exertion, his erection as hard and swollen as when they first started, Tsuzuki wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or pleased.

They opened a window to let in thesea breeze. The window sill was wide enough to accommodate them both. Tsuzuki sat with his legs dangling over the edge, the cat resting in his lap. Muraki rested his back against one side of the window frame so he could watch Tsuzuki. One of his knees was bent with his foot on the sill, while the other hung over the edge. For the sake of propriety, each wore the yukata provided by the hotel.

"It's a beautiful view," Tsuzuki said.

Muraki flicked ash from his cigarette out the window, his eyes on Tsuzuki's face. "Indeed it is."

"Does your cat want to join in? Is that why it keeps watching us?"

Muraki laughed. "Perhaps. Why don't you ask it?"

The cat meowed and looked up at Tsuzuki.

"Never mind. I don't want to know."

"Then why did you ask?" Muraki teased. "Do _you_ like cats?"

"Yes, but not like that! And I'm not into birds either!"

"I never said you were." Muraki raised a quizzical brow at him. "I never considered the possibility. Should I raid a pet shop before we meet again tomorrow night?"

"No way, idiot! Forget I said anything."

Muraki grinned as he combed back his silver hair. "I was merely offering assistance-"

"Don't."

The sky was clear. Stars twinkled overhead, so much brighter than in Nagasaki city. Silver moonlight lit the gentle ripples of Omura Bay, courtesy of the gibbous moon near the horizon. The cat purred as Tsuzuki scratched behind its ears.

_Five more nights_, Tsuzuki thought. _So little time..._

"May I ask you a personal question, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki eyed him warily. "It depends on the question."

"If you had to choose between a woman and a man, which would you prefer?"

"Well..." Tsuzuki's brow furrowed. He had always found beauty in both sexes. "It really depends on the woman - or the man." He became a little flustered by Muraki's unnerving stare. "What I mean is, the personality matters the most, not whether they're male or female."

"I see." Muraki took a drag from his cigarette. "But there are some things one can do with a woman one cannot do with a man, ne?"

Tsuzuki cast a sidelong glance at him, curious about this turn in their conversation.

Muraki watched him intently through the haze of smoke - waiting for his reply.

"It doesn't matter that much to me. Sex is sex."

"And anorgasmia is anorgasmia," Muraki added. "But I appreciate your attempt at diplomacy."

Tsuzuki bowed his head, embarrassed. He wasn't accustomed to discussing sexual matters so openly...but now that Muraki provided an opening, this was his chance to speak his mind. He licked suddenly dry lips. "You know, of all the ways you've tried to feed..." He flushed at the word. "...there's one method you haven't-"

"I know." Muraki's voice was curt. "I'm not doing it."

"It...it doesn't have to hurt, Muraki." It was easier to look at the moonlit bay than Muraki's face. "Under the right circumstances, it can feel amazing-"

"You want to fuck me?" Muraki asked bluntly. "Why don't you come out and say it?"

"All right!" So much for his attempt at subtlety. Tsuzuki lifted his chin and looked Muraki in the eye, heart pounding. "I want to fuck you."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, he felt it - the twinge between his shoulder blades.

The cat looked from one man to the other.

Muraki took another drag of his cigarette, his features impassive. Smoke curled from his nostrils as he exhaled. "Have you ever said that to anyone before?"

Tsuzuki shook his head.

Thin lips quirked at the corners. "I suppose I should be flattered. But I won't do it, Tsuzuki-san. Not even for you."

Tsuzuki shrugged and looked back at the view. What else could he say? He already knew what Muraki's answer would be. Scarred by the memory of his half-brother, why would he even consider trying it again?

The fragile bud of hope shrivelled within him. The pain between his shoulder blades sizzled down his back. He tried to reach behind to scratch it.

Sensing trouble, the cat scrambled off his lap and went to Muraki.

"What is it?" Muraki said.

"My back...it's hurting again."

Muraki swore softly and crushed the cigarette against the brick wall. "Come inside."

Another spasm made Tsuzuki double over in pain. Muraki dropped the cat into the room then swung himself inside. Slowly he lifted Tsuzuki in his arms and carried him to the rumpled bed.

"Serves you right," he muttered as he untied the yukata. "This is what happens when you won't let me feed."

"But...I did..."

"You teased me. All you gave me was a sip, the barest taste." Muraki pulled the yukata free. He dug his nails into Tsuzuki's flesh, marking him from shoulder blade to hip with deep scratches.

Tsuzuki gasped, his violet eyes slitted in pain-pleasure. He could smell his blood on Muraki's hands and the sheets, but it didn't matter. He was a Shinigami. He could take this. His skin would heal quickly enough. So he held Muraki close and let him do as he pleased.

The pain finally eased to a languid ache. When Tsuzuki opened his eyes, he found himself lying within the circle of Muraki's arms. They were both nude.

Tsuzuki sighed. After all they'd done tonight, it didn't matter.

"There." Muraki nuzzled his forehead. "Better now?"

"I don't get it. When I bled myself...wasn't it enough to prevent this?"

Muraki licked the drying blood from his fingernails. "Essence is richer than blood. From essence, blood is made. Until you release it, you will remain prone to such episodes. All power, sooner or later, requires an outlet."

"This is crazy. You make my groin hurt. You make my back hurt. All you do is bring me pain."

"Only pain?" Muraki pretended to look crestfallen. "What about the pleasure I give you?"

"The pain outweighs the pleasure." Tsuzuki combed his overlong hair from his face so he could look at Muraki properly. "I don't know why I keep coming to you."

"Maybe it's love," Muraki said lightly.

Tsuzuki snorted with laughter. "Hah!"

"Or destiny."

Tsuzuki stopped laughing.

Muraki smiled crookedly at him. "Let us rest now. We have tired ourselves enough today, ne?"

Tsuzuki could only agree. He let Muraki pull the sheets over them both. When Muraki cuddled him close, he didn't resist.

Long after he went to sleep, Muraki remained awake, the light from his narrowed false eye glowing white in the darkness.


	14. Thorns amid the blossoms

Big thanks to Demonprist, SithWitch and Gengkotsuya for beta-reading. Demonprist also gave me some very funny tips on cat behaviour, which I've nabbed for this part.

Thanks too to all who have commented. The insights and speculation, the comments about the direction of the Mu/Tsu relationship, the encouragement...it's really touching. I really appreciate your patience in continuing to read this crazy fic because I write slooooow.

Please check out the new Mu/Tsu artwork on my site: Madness has done a delightful sketch of Muraki with a blushing Tsuzuki, and Gengkotsuya has done a very sexy pencil artwork!

April 1 - minor edit thanks to Madness.

For Tristeta - Maybe a change in position will 'unseal' Tsuzuki. Then again, maybe not.

* * *

A garden by night was the perfect place for a romantic assignation or a secluded refuge to be alone with one's thoughts. But without its leaves and flowers, it possessed the grim starkness of a graveyard. 

Tsuzuki looked at the garden around him. Row upon row of rose bushes stretched as far as the eye could see, every single one bereft of blossoms or leaves. Their branches were lifted to the dark sky, sharp thorns gleaming in the pale moonlight as they cast grotesque shadows on the ground. The odours of grass and manure filled the air - long-forgotten scents that evoked memories of his childhood. A gust of wind ruffled his hair and trenchcoat, bringing a chill that bit into his skin through the layers of cloth.

He knew this place. This was the place he visited in dreams before he found Muraki in Nagasaki. But Tsuzuki did not hear his seductive drawl against his ear or detect the scent of his cologne. His spiritual sense couldn't detect him at all.

So this was a dream. But why was he dreaming of this place again?

Tsuzuki began to walk between the bushes, doing his best to scan his surroundings for signs of life.

"Muraki?" he called out. "Muraki! What's the meaning of this?" 

He didn't get an answer. But as he kept walking, he could hear a whimpering sound.

"Is anyone there?"

A gust of wind blew past him, snatching the sound away.

Tsuzuki stopped and turned around, listening hard. Nothing...but his spiritual sense detected something faint ahead.

He quickened his pace. He was getting nearer to it.

"No! Okaasan! Okaasan!" A piercing shriek rent the air.

Tsuzuki broke into a run. He leapt between two rose bushes, uncaring of the thorns ripping his clothing and hands as he pushed them aside.

A young girl dressed in a cotton smock cowered on the grass, arms flung over her head. Before the child knelt a woman dressed in a kimono with long hair falling about her shoulders to her waist. She held a thick rosebush branch studded with thorns in one upraised hand.

"Hey!" Tsuzuki seized the woman's wrist. "What do you think you're doing?"

She let the branch fall to the ground. Her fingers and palm were lined with bloody cuts from the thorns. She looked up at him with flashing dark eyes, her pale oval face contorted with grief. "What do you think, Shinigami?" she spat at him. "I'm doing your work for you!"

The words shocked him, but it was the jolt of recognition that rendered him speechless. He had dealt with many distressed people through his work - people who resented their fate and clung to life. But he would have recognised her anywhere. Her face was as familiar to him as his own. A few less wrinkles around the eyes perhaps, but otherwise the resemblance was uncanny.

_Okaasan._

"Do my actions disgust you? Is that why you intervene? But you're not the only one who can take life away! I don't have your grace or finesse, but I can do it too."

"No, Okaasan!" The child lifted her head to reveal tear-streaked cheeks. "I don't want to die!"

Tsuzuki's chest contracted. So little and chubby - she was nothing like the elder sister he remembered. But the eyes and the hair were still the same. This was Ruka - he was sure of it.

"We have no reason to live! My husband is dead thanks to you!" She stood up and glared at Tsuzuki with accusing eyes. "I saw you drain his life force. He was so weak from his injuries - he would have fought you with the strength of a dozen lions if he'd been well. But you chose a time when he was at his weakest in mind and body." She tried to hit Tsuzuki with her fists. "A week was all I wanted! One more week - I know he would have gotten better! One more...week..." Terrible sobs wracked through her body, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

Tsuzuki put his arms around her. There was nothing he could say to ease her pain, so he remained silent. Her tears wet his shirt and throat. Her hair tickled his jaw.

She was painfully thin, all skin and bone in his arms. Beneath his fingers he could feel her shoulder blades and the ridges of her ribs. But she smelled of roses - the flowers she loved best - just as he remembered.

Bittersweet pain filled his heart - grief in knowing he would lose them again, and joy at seeing them after so many years.

Tsuzuki blinked away the tears before they could fall. He tightened his arms around her.

"Don't be sad, Okaasan. Please don't cry anymore," the girl said.

The words roused the woman from her grief. She pushed Tsuzuki away. "Comfort from one such as you...what am I thinking?" She knelt down and opened her arms to her child. "Come here, little one. Do you want to see Otousan?"

"Yes." The girl hugged her back. With the resilience of the very young, she had forgiven her mother without thinking. "I miss Otousan."

She kissed her daughter's forehead. "Let us hope he makes it swift for us." She looked at Tsuzuki. "Kill us. Reunite us as a family once more."

"But I don't want to die, Okaasan." The girl looked from her to Tsuzuki.

"Quiet now. This is the only way we can see him again."

Tsuzuki sat down on the grass, and crossed his legs. He smiled at the child. "How old are you, little one?"

Overcome by shyness, she hid her face against the woman's shoulder.

"What is it to you?" the woman retorted. "Why do you care?"

Tsuzuki placed one hand on the grass and caressed it. Blades of grass slipped through his fingers, gleaming with dew in the moonlight. "I need to know the age of all my victims." A harsh term to describe the people he summoned - but that was how he regarded them. Killing was killing, regardless of the motive or method. "Let me show you something." He closed his fingers around several tufts and pulled them out. Only a few long strands of grass were visible between his fingers. "See? The little blades are much more difficult to pluck. Despite their size, their grip on life is incredibly tenacious. Children are the same."

"My daughter is four years old."

"Only four." Tsuzuki stroked his chin as he sized them both up. "No, I'm afraid it's not possible. I can see her spirit is much too strong for me to extinguish. You don't want to die, do you?" he asked her.

The girl shook her head.

"That decides it," Tsuzuki said cheerily. "If you seek life, I have no authority to take it from you." He gathered his coat about him and stood up. "And if she lives, then as her mother you must live as well. It's your responsibility to look after her and guide her into adulthood." He smiled at the girl again. "I can tell she will be a beautiful young lady one day."

"I wish she'd been born a boy."

Tsuzuki blinked. "Why?"

"My husband always wanted a son to carry on the family name. Now his name will die with him."

The girl pulled at her mother's sleeve. "I know how to climb trees like a boy, Okaasan!"

"I know, but it's not the same."

"She may not be able to carry on his name, but she still carries a part of his life force within her. As she grows up, you'll find that she reminds you of him in many ways." He took the girl's chin and lifted it up. "Do you climb many trees?" he asked gently.

"Yes!" the girl said, forgetting her fear for the moment. "And when I fall down, I never cry!"

"For one so young, she has much fortitude." He ruffled her hair. "Don't make the mistake of devaluing your own daughter."

The woman stared at him, eyes wide. "Why is a shinigami being so kind to mortals like us?"

"You both have so much to live for. Your lives are not yet finished. And contrary to superstition we don't kill every person we come across. If we did that, we'd only be creating even more work for ourselves! After all, we need our rest time too." He bowed before them both. "I will leave you both in peace."

"Wait! Before you go - I have a request to make."

"What?"

The woman bowed before him, her face to the ground, long hair cascading over her shoulders to touch his shoes. "Please give me a child."

"Hey!" Tsuzuki stepped back. "I'm a God of Death, remember? I take life away - I don't dispense it out!"

"I don't want any child. I want yours." She lifted her head slowly, her gaze strangely serene in the moonlight. "Please give me your child."

"You mean...my..." Tsuzuki laughed with more than a trace of hysteria. "No, no, no!"

The woman lowered her head. "I knew it was foolish to ask. I know you can never love me, a mortal with a finite lifespan-"

"No, no. It's not that." Tsuzuki covered his mouth and shook his head. And he once thought his dreams of Muraki were shameful... "It's just - it's not possible. It's against Shoukanka rules! Hell, I can't even...even..."

"Can't what?"

"Never mind," he muttered. "Believe me, I'd make a terrible father. I couldn't provide for you - we're paid peanuts. There's a lot of other fine young men...and besides, you still have your daughter!"

"It's not enough." She reached out to grab his arm. "My daughter is more mine than his - I cannot see my husband in her face. But if I had a son...a boy..." For all her frailty, her cracked nails dug into his flesh.

Tsuzuki tried to shake her off. "I'm sorry, but it's impossible. I don't do that kind of thing! I - I'm out of practice-"

"I can climb like a boy!" The girl pulled at her mother's sleeve. "I can run like a boy too!"

The woman ignored her. "A son is all I ask - an ember of life to replace the fierce flame you stole from me." Her eyes were empty blank depths swallowing up the moonlight. "Please let me give birth to your child."

"No! I can't do it! I can't-"

Sharp thorns sprouted from her arms and hands. Her fingers transformed into vine-like tendrils that wound around his wrists and arms.

Tsuzuki pulled himself free, breaking the tendrils in his desperation. Yet more tendrils grew from the stumps - thick wood-like branches studded with thorns. They pressed into his palms when he grabbed them, piercing his flesh as they grew in size. He swore and kicked at them with his feet. A few cracked and creaked from the blows, but new branches grew from the stumps to reach for him again. When he tried to kick them again, more thorny branches sprouted from the ground to curl around his legs.

"What's the meaning of this? What the..." He turned to look at the girl to find a flourishing rosebush in her place, pink buds beginning to bloom. "Dammit! What do you want from me?"

"A child." Leaves grew from the woman's hair, adorning her head like a crown. "Please give me your child." Deep furrows and grooves stretched around her eyes and nose. Her skin became withered as the layers cracked and peeled away to reveal shiny brown bark. "Even if you can never love me-"

The thorns were everywhere, biting into Tsuzuki's shoulders as they engulfed him in their woody embrace. More pressed into his arms, winding around his wrists. Vines curled around his neck, over his mouth and nose. He ripped at them, but more vines grew to replace them. He fumbled blindly for his fuda. He needed to attack it. Fire...

But fire would burn everything...and everyone. Just like last time...

He grimaced as he twisted around. There had to be another way.

"Let me go!" he ground out. "Stop it! Don't make me do this!"

The woman was no more - in her place was a thriving plant as tall as a man, a bizarre mixture of rosebush and grapevine. A thorny branch curled around his head. Sharp spikes dug into his forehead. Blood trickled to his brow.

"Arrrrrggghhhh!"

Red was everywhere. The thorns formed deep scratches as they began to descend down his face. More vines and thorny branches tightened around his arms and legs to form a cocooning prison. He couldn't move. He couldn't see.

He would lose his eyes - his hated purple eyes. Like Saagatanus had lost his...

Tsuzuki screamed. A vitriolic torrent of grief and fury and horror spilled from his lips.

Behind his eyelids, a thread of white spiralled out against a backdrop of red. Twelve pulsing points formed before him, twisting in an empty void - then exploded out into blinding rays of brilliant white light.

Branches splintered around him like matchsticks, then burst into flames as they fell to the ground. The vines slackened their hold. He was free once more, his vision restored.

Torn leaves and rose petals and burning rosebush lay scattered throughout the garden.

The mother and daughter were nowhere to be found.

* * *

"Tsuzuki-san." 

A warm tongue lapped one of his eyelids. A suffocating warmth settled around him, pressing him down against the mattress.

"Your tears are as sweet as the rest of you. So delicious...but the essence isn't here." The tongue moved to the other eyelid to lap it with soothing strokes. "If only feeding from you were so easy. Then I would torture you until you wept a flood of tears, then drink every drop until I was drunk on your grief."

Tsuzuki opened his eyes. Muraki loomed over him, silver fringe falling into his eyes, his shoulders outlined with morning sunlight. His arms were braced on either side as he held Tsuzuki's wrists against the mattress.

Muraki tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "But there is nothing to be gained in wishing for what cannot be, ne?"

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki's voice was raw. The acrid smell of smoke still lingered in his nostrils. He cleared his throat. "Let go of me before I kill you."

Muraki arched a brow. "Why do you think I'm holding you down?" He indicated one of Tsuzuki's hands with a nod of his head.

His palms and wrists were still encased in velvet, but the fingertips of both gloves were burnt to a cinder, leaving his digits exposed.

"What...what happened?"

"I was going to ask you the same question." Muraki leaned over to tug one of the buckles, and nodded with satisfaction when it held firm. "You woke up kicking and shouting, while your gloves smouldered to a crisp. I had no idea your predilection for violent bedroom antics persisted in sleep as well."

"I wasn't even holding a fuda," Tsuzuki muttered.

"This is more than fuda magic. This is a fissure in the seal that binds you, deeper than the one you showed me yesterday." Muraki took one of Tsuzuki's wrists and brought the fingers to his lips. "Deliberate intent was required for this little display of power." Gently he nuzzled and licked the fingertips with the tip of his tongue.

Tsuzuki watched in fascinated wonder as Muraki closed his lips around the index finger. "Muraki...what..."

Muraki closed his eyes as he began to suck with a slow easy rhythm. His tongue swept over the sensitive fingerpad with gentle strokes. He let his lips glide along the digit to the knuckle to suck it deeper.

Tsuzuki flushed. He never knew fingers could be an erogenous zone. The pleasure was nothing like the intense exquisite sensations of last night, blinding him to everything else - now he could watch Muraki's responses as well. He looked so serene, with his long eyelashes flush against high cheekbones - like a man who had been granted his dearest wish.

Muraki settled himself between Tsuzuki's thighs, his arousal pressing between them as he made himself comfortable. He began to suck with more enthusiasm, using his teeth to scrape the fingertip. His tongue caressed the length of the digit, laving it with strokes that tickled and teased - a tantalising imitation of the way he had sucked Tsuzuki last night.

Languid pleasure stole along the inside of Tsuzuki's wrist, followed by a sizzling heat along his index finger. But even as he registered the new sensation, Muraki dissipated the heat with a swipe of his tongue. His finger became cool, then cold - as if he were burrowing his finger in ice instead of Muraki's mouth.

Beneath his fringe, Muraki's false eye began to glow - four points of red around the iris.

In his dream, there had been twelve points. The last thing he had seen as the thorns pierced his eyes - the same twelve points. The true seal of the demon with whom Muraki made his covenant...

"No!" Tsuzuki pulled his hand free and shoved Muraki away. "My energy is mine!"

Muraki fell back against the sheets, lips still parted, a dazed expression on his face. "You..." His gaze narrowed as he came to his senses. "Look at your hands - this is the outcome of energy unchecked! It must be released if you are to ever master your power!"

Tsuzuki curled his hands into fists. "I don't share my energy!"

"Why did you shed your blood last night?" Muraki's eyes glittered with anger. "Why did you let me believe you cared about my fate?"

"I..." Tsuzuki flushed and turned away. "That was a one-off incident. You were under the delusion I could help, so I had to do something. You haven't been summoned for judgement by JuOhCho yet."

"So you felt pity for me. Is that it?"

Tsuzuki fiddled with the velvet cuff of one glove. He knew this was dangerous territory.

"Answer me!"

"Why should I? You've never cared about my feelings before."

"I have no use for your pity!" Muraki snarled. "If anyone needs pity, it is you for being such an ignorant fool!" He seized Tsuzuki's hand before he could reach for the buckle. "What are you doing? I never gave you permission to remove them."

"They can't serve their purpose anymore." Tsuzuki watched as Muraki took both wrists and held them apart. "Why do you insist that you are mine - then act the same arrogant way you always have? It's a lie and you know it."

"It is no lie. I am yours."

"My what?" Tsuzuki countered. He tried to wrench one wrist free. "My tormentor? My rival?"

"Now _that_ is an interesting question." Muraki's grin was wolfish. "What would you like me to be? Advisor? Guardian? Teacher, perhaps?"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Boyfriend, then...or lover." He drawled the last word, as if savouring the syllables. "Our activities together suggest a degree of intimacy-"

"What about a dream master? Are you responsible for the dream I just had?"

Muraki arched a brow. "Why do you ask?" His lips curved in a smirk. "Poor Tsuzuki-san. Did you have a nightmare?"

His mocking amusement incensed Tsuzuki.

"You know damn well I did! You created it so you could unleash my power - that's been your true purpose all along. You want my power for your own twisted goals." He grabbed Muraki by the shoulders. "How dare you invoke the memory of my mother and sister! Leave them out of it!"

"Must you blame me for everything bad that happens to you? Maybe this is a cry from your subconscious - a reminder of your past, of the people whose memory you betrayed in order to become the creature you are now."

Tsuzuki froze, his brows drawn together in a frown. Yesterday he had thought of his family while admiring the tulips at the country club - was his subconscious seeking to redress this by conjuring them in his mind? But why had they turned into monstrous plants? This wasn't how he remembered them. "Shut up! I don't know what you're insinuating, but people aren't plants! You can't just hack them off like flowers from a bush! Every one of them is equal!"

"Equal in what?" Muraki's steely gaze flashed. "In their emotional dependence on others? In the way they desperately search for validation of their meaningless existence?"

"Who are you to judge whose existence is meaningless? You have no right to cast judgement!"

"Why not? That is what you do when you take life away," Muraki sneered. "I merely follow your example."

"Shut up!" Tsuzuki's nails dug into Muraki's flesh as he shook him. "You know nothing of my work! You have no idea of what I do!"

"And you know nothing about being human! You'd rather believe a rose-tinted illusion than recognise the truth-"

Tsuzuki silenced him with a brutal kiss. He bit at the thin lips until they parted, and drank from the wetness within. There was nothing sweet about Muraki's mouth - he was metallic in taste, tangy and bitter yet intoxicating nevertheless. His bare fingers tangled in Muraki's hair, glorying in the feel of the soft silken strands.

Muraki groaned and returned the favour. His tongue lashed against Tsuzuki's as he deepened the kiss. His hands wound around Tsuzuki's waist, fingers possessively splayed across his unmarked back - once again claiming the territory he lacerated the night before. He stroked along the length of his spine, then swept along one hip to dig his nails into the trembling muscle of a taut buttock.

Tsuzuki arched back, his throat exposed, eyes slitted in pleasure. Muraki's nails were as sharp as thorns, but his flesh was warm and sensitive and smooth to touch - supple and human, not gnarled wood. Tsuzuki did his own tests of seductive torture - kneading Muraki's shoulders until they flexed and twitched beneath him, and marking angular shoulder blades with the scrape of his nails.

"Sadist," Muraki teased. "You haven't even fed me yet." He ran the flat of one palm along Tsuzuki's ribcage until his thumb rested against a flat nipple. He rubbed the nub in circles, at first with feather-light touches that made Tsuzuki twitch in frustration, then firm squeezes with thumb and forefinger that made him writhe in pleasure-pain.

Bemused, Tsuzuki watched, his chest rising and falling in excitement. Had they been arguing moments before? It was hard to remember - nothing seemed to matter when he fell under the thrall of Muraki's sexual expertise. His nipple ached, acutely sensitised by Muraki's touch. Even the neglected nipple was taut in sympathy.

"See? There are more subtle ways to inflict torture," Muraki muttered. "Ways that leave the flesh unmarked and unbroken." He began to stroke the other nipple gently with his thumb, then less gently with the pinch of his fingertips. When Tsuzuki tried to push his hand away, he wound his free arm around Tsuzuki's waist and pulled him close, their legs tangling together as they faced each other. "Don't fight this. Endurance brings its own rewards." He lowered his head to suck at one nipple.

Tsuzuki couldn't answer. Helplessly he wound his hands around Muraki's neck, his fingers tangling in fine silver hair. The ticklish pleasure of Muraki's lips and tongue, cleverly interspersed with the sharp bite of his teeth...Tsuzuki was left gasping at the miasma of conflicting sensations. Why was Muraki doing this? He was not a woman - his flat breast was only muscle. There was no milk here, no energy from which he could draw sustenance.

No, there was nothing Muraki could gain by toying with him in this way.

Tsuzuki found some comfort in that thought as Muraki nipped the other nipple, then lapped at it with the soothing warmth of his tongue. He reminded himself of it as he shivered, pleasure vibrating along his nerve endings like music from a taut violin string. When Muraki lifted his head to draw breath, Tsuzuki urged him down.

"I thought you wanted me to stop. I was only doing what you wanted."

Tsuzuki wound one leg around Muraki's lean hips. "Don't stop." He pressed his cock against Muraki's groin, and began a rhythmic undulation with his hips, shamelessly rubbing their erections together. "Feel...what you do to me."

"Mmm..." Muraki closed his eyes in an expression of pure bliss. "I feel it...ahh..." He grasped Tsuzuki by the waist, nails marking the flesh they held. He sank his teeth deep in Tsuzuki's shoulder, and sighed as the living muscle flexed and rippled against his lips.

Tsuzuki gasped as he lay on his side, his heart pounding. Saagatanus had marked him like this, his sharp teeth biting this very same spot - crushing muscle and bone with his powerful jaws. Muraki possessed the same demonic hunger - it was only his human form that prevented him from causing the same physical injury. His mouth was smaller, his teeth lacking jagged serrations. His silver hair tickled Tsuzuki's jaw and cheek; his hot breath teased the curve of Tsuzuki's throat. His cock twitched and throbbed, shifting restlessly across Tsuzuki's thighs and groin, a delicious friction that threatened to melt what little control Tsuzuki had left.

In this sea of erotic sensation, the bites and scratches were strangely appropriate - a necessary brake on the escalating waves of sensuality. Their previous encounters had been quick and frenzied, crazed lust-fuelled couplings that only provided temporary relief. Maybe twists of pain to counteract the pleasure would provide a more lasting satiation. The injuries did not matter - he was a Shinigami. He had endured much worse in his work - why not endure it again in his quest for sexual gratification? So he cradled Muraki's head as he bit and sucked until bruises formed on his shoulder. He willingly arched his throat when Muraki traced the graceful lines with his lips and tongue.

A soft whimper left his throat. Pain mixed with pleasure...this was what he deserved.

"Patience," Muraki muttered. "You must be..." He nuzzled the pulse point at his throat, then nipped it with his teeth. "...patient."

Tsuzuki nodded, but this teasing was unbearable - even the pain Muraki inflicted could not distract him from his hunger. His fingers clenched in Muraki's hair, tangling in its silken softness. The man was such a bewitching mix of contrasts: sharp yet soft, brutal yet tender. He tried to explore Muraki's body with his other hand, still partially encased in its glove. His fingertips slid down the satin smoothness of his back, marked by the cuts he'd inflicted during their first liaison, until he reached the scars along the side of his torso. He slid his fingers over them, memorising their path from ribcage across narrow waist to hip - thick intersecting cords of rippled tissue.

Muraki exhaled sharply and a shiver went through him. "Tsuzuki-san..." He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped Tsuzuki's wrist.

Tsuzuki frowned as Muraki guided him to another spot. Even though he was miraculously healed, Muraki did not have the healing powers of a Shinigami. The demon with whom he shared the covenant could not grant the same regenerative power as EnmaDaiOh. He began to stroke them again, this time with delicate feather-light strokes.

"You like touching them, ne?" Muraki whispered, his head resting on the pillow. "This is as it should be. You were the one who gave me my first true taste of steel." His entire body tensed as Tsuzuki drew his fingers along a thick scar line, then relaxed as they moved on. "Do you remember? I had my back to you, which was careless of me. Your first stab was so swift and deep - my flesh may as well have been butter. The tip of the knife emerged over..." Tentatively he touched a stellate scar over his abdomen. "...here, I think."

"It doesn't matter." Tsuzuki pushed his hand away and ran his fingers along the scar. He tried to flatten his palm but the velvet hampered his efforts. Annoyed, he reached for the buckle of one - and jerked back when a small electric charge stung his fingers.

The buckles were charmed - the magic around them was palpable, alive for the first time. A spell...

"What is the meaning of this?"

Muraki's lips tilted at the corners. "You didn't ask me permission. The fabric is immaterial - it is not required for the protective ward to take effect."

Tsuzuki stared at them in disgust. He had put them on yesterday - he didn't sense any spiritual power emanating from them at the time. "When did you place this spell on them?"

"While you were sleeping. As your power grows, such a spell is necessary to prevent any unfortunate mishaps - otherwise you would have woken with the entire hotel burning in flames around you, which isn't quite the sizzling awakening I had in mind for us."

Tsuzuki probed them with his spiritual sense. The buckles were imbued with the same power as barrier fuda, absorbing the energy emitted by his hands. "I don't want my powers restrained. Take them off."

"You are not ready yet. Much as I enjoyed our first night together, I have no intention of re-enacting its farcical conclusion. If I am to be unconscious with you in my bed, let it be from sexual exhaustion, not a knockout spell or spontaneous attack."

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze, incensed with himself. He wouldn't be able to remove them until he returned to Meifu...unless he persuaded Muraki to break the spell.

"But how can I feel you with gloved hands? For two nights, I've been unable to feel your hair, your skin...your scars." A husky note crept into his voice - it wasn't exactly a lie.

Muraki's gaze softened. "You want to touch me so much?"

Tsuzuki nodded. He brushed the silver strands from Muraki's forehead, and traced the graceful arch of his brow. "Each time you touch me, I long to touch you back." He touched the high prominence of his cheekbone, the curve of his earlobe, the angle of his jaw. "Each kiss, each bite, each scratch you inflict - I long to do it all to you." His nails curled into the soft skin beneath Muraki's jaw. "Please...take off the gloves. Let me feel what you feel."

Muraki kissed the fingertips. "You plead so prettily with your beseeching violet eyes. Now I understand how you manipulate others to do your bidding." Suddenly he pushed Tsuzuki on his back and rolled on top. "Tell me then, what do you long for when you feel me inside you?" He rocked his hips against Tsuzuki's. "What do you long for...when you let me fuck you?"

"I...I long..." Tsuzuki moaned at the exquisite friction. His legs parted to accommodate Muraki's thrusts.

With elbows resting on either side to support his weight, Muraki gazed down at him, powerful shoulders hunched. "You long...for what?" He began to move faster, harder. "Tell me."

"Ahh..." Jolts of pleasure emanated from the friction, rippling along Tsuzuki's overwrought senses. He grasped Muraki by the shoulders, and rocked in time with him.

"I want...an answer." Muraki ground his hips against Tsuzuki, cock against cock.

Tsuzuki shook his head. Thinking of a coherent reply was impossible. He trembled as Muraki slid his cock between his thighs, the slick head rubbing against his balls and the delicate perineal flesh. "Please..." His nails curled into the broad shoulder blades, now damp with sweat - a small punishment in exchange for this exquisite torture.

"Answer me."

Tsuzuki lifted his head to bury his lips against the pale shoulder, biting and kissing - a wordless answer of his own. He attacked one nipple with the same ferocity when Muraki reached for the bottle of lotion on the nightstand, deliberately mimicking Muraki's earlier actions.

"You are...a fast learner," Muraki murmured. He kissed Tsuzuki hard, biting his lips in retaliation. "But you are in danger...of presuming too much." He slid his lubricated fingers between them. "Lift your hips. I will show you what your body truly wants."

Tsuzuki gasped as Muraki prepared him. His cock ached, stiffening in response to Muraki's seductive massaging strokes.

"I brought this from the bathroom. I planned to wake you like this - your body singing with the pleasure of my possession - but you ruined my plans with your little fire display." He watched Tsuzuki's helpless reaction with clinical detachment. "See? You want me inside you - there is no need to be ashamed."

Tsuzuki couldn't speak. He gripped the rumpled sheets as Muraki's touch wove a different spell over him. A hoarse cry left his lips as jolts of pleasure vibrated through his body.

"So responsive...a single touch sets you alight." Muraki withdrew his fingers, his own breathing unsteady, his gaze remote. "Now tell me what you want. Tell me what you long for."

"You..." The word left him as a rasp. "I want you in me...and around me. I want everything, Muraki."

"Really?" Muraki's glittering gaze moved over him, lingering with insolent intent over his parted thighs and untended erection. "Look at yourself!"

"Please...don't be afraid..." Tsuzuki held out his arms. "Let me show you...as you showed me. If you want to feed-"

"Quiet." Muraki seized one wrist and yanked him to a sitting position. When Tsuzuki tried to embrace him, he shook him off and pulled him to one of the wooden bedposts at the end of the bed. "Get on your knees. Hold this."

It wasn't quite what Tsuzuki wanted, but the rough urgency of Muraki's voice echoed Tsuzuki's own lust, compelling him to obey. His physical need was too immediate. They could continue their argument later, but the hunger within him clamoured for fulfilment now.

Muraki knelt behind him, between his legs. Grasping Tsuzuki around the chest and hip, he slid his cock along the cleft of Tsuzuki's ass.

Tsuzuki shut his eyes and rested against Muraki's torso. "Mmm..."

"Now tell me what you want," Muraki growled against his ear. He stroked Tsuzuki from chest to hip with one hand, moulding the shifting muscles beneath his palms. The other hand rested on his hip, nails scratching as he tried to restrain Tsuzuki's movements.

So close. Tsuzuki whimpered, his head half-lolling on Muraki's shoulder, grateful for the supporting weight. His muscles twitched as Muraki slid tantalisingly close to entering him. "I already told you."

"But right now - this very minute - you want me to fuck you, ne?" Muraki's voice was husky and thick, his breath hot against Tsuzuki's ear. "Your body pleads for my touch well enough." He exhaled sharply as Tsuzuki ground himself against him. "Maybe too well. I've never met anyone so insatiable...so perfectly attuned to my own appetites." He tilted Tsuzuki's hips forward, and slid slowly inside.

So hard, so hot...

So perfect.

Tsuzuki trembled, his muscles relaxing around Muraki, welcoming him deeper. His face was flushed, lips parted. Sweat dewed his brow and across his chest. His fingers clutched the carved wooden post like a lifeline, and a growl left his throat as Muraki found his prostate. A sizzling jolt of ecstasy went off inside him, making his cock arrow up to attention. 

"There," Muraki whispered against his ear. He remained where he was, his erection buried to the hilt. "Remember this - how good this feels." He pressed biting kisses along Tsuzuki's sweat-damp neck. "This is how we are meant to be together, ne?"

Tsuzuki wasn't in a position to disagree. His muscles rippled along Muraki's length, impatient to make up for what it was denied last night. His entire body was as taut as a bow - his thighs tensed in anticipation, his shoulders hunched as he clung to the varnished post. He was grateful for its cool unyielding surface - a welcome contrast to the furnace-heat of Muraki's body enveloping him from behind, and filling him from within.

The grey cat, which had been patiently watching from the nightstand, leapt to the floor. With tail twitching, it prowled to the center of the room where the sunlight fell on the carpet. It lay down in a patch of sunlight, directly in their range of vision.

Sunlight...morning. Distractedly, Tsuzuki glanced at his right wrist. He wasn't wearing his watch - he remembered he removed it the night before. The incision was gone - his colleagues at Meifu would see nothing when he returned to work.

His secret was safe. And - for the moment - so was his nemesis.

Muraki squeezed Tsuzuki's nipple, bringing his attention to more immediate needs. "Focus on me. Focus on this." He twisted his hips slightly, setting off another twinge of pleasure inside him. "Are you ready for more, Tsuzuki-san?"

Tsuzuki swallowed and rubbed his cheek againt Muraki's, a wordless plea of his own.

"Let's do it."

And he did, sliding out until only the head of his cock remained inside, then slamming forward to fill Tsuzuki completely. Before Tsuzuki could accustom himself to the fullness, Muraki withdrew. Before he could beg, Muraki drove into him. His rhythm was fierce and relentless as he pounded Tsuzuki with an intensity he had never known before.

Pleasure-pain reverberated through Tsuzuki's body, aftershocks emanating from his prostate that left him panting for breath. His ass ached, a dull pain that seemed to heighten the sweetness evoked inside him. Only his grip on the ornate turnings of the bedpost kept him upright - he was jerked back and forth, trapped between the post and Muraki's driving hips in a tug-of-war from which there was no escape.

Not that he wanted to leave. Nothing else made him feel so...alive. So human.

Enslaved by Muraki's ravenous hunger, he had little choice but to endure the near-violent ecstasy.

So Tsuzuki did - again and again. The almost-withdrawal so stark, and the fullness so brutally sweet it took his breath away.

Muraki's hands were just as demanding. One hand remained on his hip to hold him in place, while the other roamed over his heaving chest and pebble-hard nipples, moulding him like a sculptor with clay, seeking to refashion his flesh into a different form.

Keeping up with Muraki was beyond him. With nerve-endings firing shots of pleasure at irregular intervals, there was no room to adapt or adjust. His thighs and biceps trembled with every thrust, flushed and gleaming with sweat in the morning sunlight. His erect cock ached with the most delicious agony as it bobbed in time to Muraki's insistent fucking. Gasping moans left his throat - he was too breathless to speak.

The creak of the wooden frame, the wet sounds of their flesh meeting and separating in intimate ceaseless motion - sounds which said all that needed to be said.

From its seat on the carpet, the cat stood up and let out a plaintive meow.

Muraki growled. He pulled Tsuzuki close, forcing him to recline against his chest. He kept his cock deep inside Tsuzuki, never moving far from his prostate. The stroking was persistent and sure - yet infused with a gentleness that sent waves of liquid pleasure through Tsuzuki's body.

Tsuzuki sighed. He eased his hold over the bedpost. His bones melted against the heat of Muraki's body. He learned to anticipate the rhythm of Muraki's thrusts and to respond with delicious contractions of his own. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing his dark hair to spill over Muraki's shoulder. Against such seductive persuasion, his supernatural powers and shikigami were useless.

"Perfect...so perfect." Muraki's voice was husky and thick, with a trace of wonder. "Your body accommodates my every whim - it's like an extension of my own." He shivered as Tsuzuki squeezed him, and retaliated by biting the side of his neck.

Tsuzuki arched against him, sinuous grace in motion as he writhed against the pain. His muscles rippled around Muraki once more.

The cat stepped closer and meowed again.

"My possession pleases you, ne?" Muraki's nails bit into the slight swell of pectoral muscle, sharp as thorns. "I long to please you so much. It's the only purpose of my existence."

Even through the haze of desire, the words made Tsuzuki uneasy. "Muraki..."

"I sound like a concubine begging for her master," Muraki chuckled without humour. "Ahh...the irony." Muraki gripped Tsuzuki's cock and began to stroke with the same languid pace. "But I mean every word. Please...come for me. Show me your true form."

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki arched his hips into the touch, his cock jerking and lengthening in Muraki's hand. His entire body vibrated with renewed excitement. "Are you...sure..." He broke off with a groan as Muraki's thrusts picked up pace.

"I can't get...enough of you."

Tsuzuki's fingers clenched the ornate turnings of the bedpost once more. Stroked and fucked...he simply didn't have the willpower to resist.

The cat yowled at them, tail lashing in agitation. It clawed the bedpost until it stood on its hind legs.

"Ignore it."

Tsuzuki craned his neck to look at Muraki's face. The grim set of his brow, the flat line of his mouth, the clenched jaw, his pallor - he looked more like a torture victim than a man in the grip of ecstacy. His silver hair shone white in the sunlight.

Baring its fangs, the cat yowled.

"Silence!" Muraki snarled.

The cat hissed, and yowled at Tsuzuki instead.

"Muraki...what is it saying?" He reached one hand up to clasp Muraki's head - his lips were playing with a sensitive spot behind his ear.

"Nothing...of importance."

The cat yowled again and again, its head moving from side to side. The tips of its grey fur caught the sunlight to become pure gleaming white.

"It...it wants us to stop..." He pushed his head against Muraki's cheek, denying him access. His gaze caught sight of the charmed steel buckle, now gleaming white in the sun as well.

The cat, the buckles of the gloves, Muraki himself - all imbued with white light. The same white light from Muraki's eye that appeared in the battle with Saagatanus. And in his dream - the spiral and its twelve points that preceded the garden's destruction...

_Immeasurable light..._

"No more." Tsuzuki tightened his grip in Muraki's hair. "We must stop."

"Focus on yourself," Muraki muttered. His hand stroked faster along the shaft. "The power within you - let it out."

"Don't." Tsuzuki shook his head, trying to shake off the pleasure. He gripped Muraki's wrist. "You're overreaching yourself."

"I don't care!" Muraki clawed his chest. "I have to do this!"

Tsuzuki hissed. "I said enough!" He swung around to elbow Muraki across the jaw, then scrambled free from the bed. He grabbed his black trenchcoat from the floor to cover himself.

"Tsuzuki-san." Muraki lay sprawled on the bed, chest heaving, jaw clenched, too exhausted to move. "You dare...deny me? You dare...deny your destiny? How long...do you think you can hide?"

Tsuzuki turned away, hugging himself. His chest still bled from the cuts. His cock throbbed at attention. His insides twisted with frustrated desire, sending a wave of nausea through him. The sudden deprivation of Muraki's touch was just short of physical agony. "We can't do this anymore." Awkwardly he pulled on his trousers and shirt, and grabbed his trenchcoat from the floor. In his haste, a couple of fuda fell out. "I have to return to Meifu. I must be late already."

Muraki held out his hand. "Come to bed. I will finish what I started, for better or worse."

The cat hissed at him.

"You be silent!"

Lifting its head high, the creature replied by whipping its tail around and stalking towards Tsuzuki instead.

Tsuzuki buttoned his coat. "Do you remember what you said when it jumped on my back? You said it was thinking of me." He looked down at it. "Maybe this time it was thinking of you."

The feline rubbed its head against Tsuzuki's legs and purred.

Muraki watched, his lip curling in disgust. "Truly you are a traitor."

Tsuzuki stepped away from it and picked up his watch from the nightstand. "You don't mean that. It is not so foolish as to forget the one who has given it shelter and sustenance."

Muraki was silent. He looked at Tsuzuki, his eyes narrowed.

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. The signs had been there all along - but he'd been so busy looking for other possibilities instead of seeing the one that was right in front of him. "Take care of yourself. Eat breakfast, drink lots of water. You should relax while you're on holiday."

"What time will you come to me?" Muraki asked impatiently.

"I don't know. There are some things I need to do first."

Muraki sat up and swung his feet to the floor. "You must come early so we can have dinner. It was remiss of me not to feed you last night."

Tsuzuki flushed. He hadn't felt hungry last night. He had fed in other ways in Muraki's bed. "I...I'll do my best."

Muraki stood up, unashamed in his nudity, his cock still erect. "Good. I will wait for you in my apartment...just like this. We will pick up from where we left off."

Tsuzuki took a couple of steps back. "If I see you like that, I'm going back to Meifu! There is no way we can keep doing this, idiot! You're squandering what energy you have left!"

Muraki shrugged. "If this is to be the death of me, so be it."

"Not if I have anything to do with it. Only JuOhCho through the Kiseki has jurisdiction over human lives. No demon is allowed to take human life in violation of the Kiseki - not even yours."

Muraki suddenly smiled and pulled Tsuzuki into his arms. "So you come to protect me? How adorable of you."

"Muraki! Get off! Get-"

Muraki's mouth silenced the rest of his words. His tongue snaked inside Tsuzuki's mouth, his teeth drew blood. Tsuzuki yanked at his hair until Muraki gave him breathing space.

"Come to bed," he growled against Tsuzuki's forehead. "Your body craves mine - I can feel it."

"Goodbye, Muraki."

"Tsuzuki-san-"

Muraki was left clutching empty air. He sighed. These abrupt disappearances were becoming a bad habit.

The cat scrabbled at one of the fuda, shredding it with its claws.

"Having fun, are we?"

The feline lashed its tail and yowled, then continued scratching. When it was satisfied, it rolled on its back, legs in the air, writhing against the shredded fuda.

Muraki picked up his creased shirt and trousers from the floor. He should have brought a change of clothes. These clothes needed to be laundered before he could wear them again. He wore the yukata instead, then picked up the phone to order dry cleaning and breakfast.

Tsuzuki-san had ordered him to eat. If that was his will, it would be done.

The bloodstains on the other fuda caught his eye. He seized it up, placed it between index and middle finger and waved it in the air. When nothing happened, he inhaled its fragrance. The scent went straight to his head, making him dizzy with its distinctive aroma.

"My beautiful Tsuzuki-san," he murmured.

He crushed the fuda in his fist and brought it to his lips.

* * *

Back in his apartment in Meifu, Tsuzuki pressed a Fire attack fuda to the steel buckles. They melted like cheese against the fiery heat. 

He pulled them free of the tattered velvet, and cooled them under running water. When he held them in his hands, he felt nothing magical within them. Muraki's spell must have been weak to start with.

He placed them in a drawer with a couple of attack fuda, just in case.

Fine silver hairs clung to the remaining velvet. Tsuzuki placed each strand in a small plastic bag, taking care not to touch the roots.

Watari often boasted about his extensive knowledge of multiple scientific disciplines.

Tsuzuki just hoped tissue histology was one of them.

* * *

Hisoka was in the office reading when Tsuzuki turned up for work. 

"Good morning, Hisoka! So you found that book Tatsumi recommended?"

"Yeah." Hisoka shut the book. "It's 10 o'clock. I thought you were going to start coming in on time."

"I slept in again." Tsuzuki laughed sheepishly. "I'm getting too old to keep working. Don't let my physical form fool you - inside everything is slowing down. It's a miracle I even find my way here."

Hisoka snorted. "Your sense of direction _is_ atrocious."

Tsuzuki grinned as he glanced at the empty in-tray on Hisoka's desk. "It's so nice to have a lull in our workload." He put his feet up on his empty desk and rested his hands behind his head. "We must enjoy it while it lasts."

"Chief Konoe was here half an hour ago. He was looking for you."

"Oh?" Tsuzuki put his feet down at once. "So we have a new case?"

"I don't think so - he would have said something to me about it."

"I see." He knew this was coming, but he didn't know news travelled so fast between the Demon World and Meifu. "Well, I better go find him. You keep up the reading. Later I want to see a demonstration of what you've learnt so far."

"Tsuzuki?"

"What?"

"If...if there's something troubling you, and you need someone to talk to...then I'm always here." He looked up at Tsuzuki, green eyes wide.

Tsuzuki's smile was wistful. "Thank you, Hisoka."

Hisoka shook his head angrily, refusing to be placated. "Even if you lose track of the time and forget the library rules and get lost travelling to work, at least remember I'm your partner!" He turned away from Tsuzuki to look out the window.

Tsuzuki said nothing for a long moment. He didn't know how to explain his relationship with Muraki - he didn't fully understand it himself. And Muraki's objectives were still clouded in so much mystery and confusion. But he did know that he wanted to spare Hisoka the ugly truth for as long as possible. "I'll do my best to remember that." He squeezed Hisoka's shoulder as he walked past him out the door.

"You're very good at it now."

Tsuzuki turned, on the verge of closing the door. "Good at what?"

"Hiding your feelings. I can't feel anything at all."

* * *

Konoe leaned his elbows on the desk, his fingers interlaced in front of him. "Grand Duke Saagatanus is lost to the Demon World. Grand Duke Ashitarote has written a letter demanding an explanation from EnmaDaiOh. All the Cho heads are up in arms about it." 

Tsuzuki lounged back in his chair. "Why is a missing demon our problem? Can't Duke Ashitarote maintain discipline over his own subordinates? Maybe Saagatanus has deserted his duties to make a new contract with another victim."

"He isn't missing. What's left of him has been located over the Tsushima Strait and the Korean Peninsula. From the weather conditions, they suspect he met his end in Kyushu."

"So they want us to investigate the loss of a demon, is that it?" Tsuzuki sat up and straightened his shoulders, his hands clenching into fists. "The sheer gall of their request! Have they forgotten how Saaga breached our defence ward to interfere in the lives of Hijiri and the Otonashi family? What he did was unconscionable! Otonashi Kazusa died because of him! She was only a girl, Konoe! Was it her fault she could see the true form of demons?"

Konoe was unmoved. "Did you do it, Tsuzuki?"

"Do what?"

"Are you responsible for what happened to Saagatanus?"

"No." It was true - as far as he was concerned.

Konoe remained silent, waiting.

"How could I harm the Brigade Commander of the Demon World? Have you forgotten the outcome of my encounter with him?" Tsuzuki challenged. "I was the one who was possessed by Saagatanus! I was his 'lamb' - the one who had the 'honour' of bearing his mark. He used me! He used my shikigami!"

_You are here to face punishment for your crimes. As you have done to others, so we shall do to you._

Muraki was the first person to give voice - and action - to his long-suppressed feelings. He was the first who seemed to understand the enormity of what Saagatanus had done to him.

Tsuzuki swallowed, ashamed of his outburst. He saw blood ooze from his hand - his nails were digging into his palm. "Sorry."

"I understand, Tsuzuki." Konoe poured tea in his cup, then filled his own. "I haven't forgiven him either. But you must remember you expelled Saagatanus yourself. You thwarted his plans in the end."

Tsuzuki looked into the golden liquid, lost in thought. "Did I? I don't remember how I did it. And Kazusa still died because of her ability to see his true form." A thought occurred to him. "What happened to her? Was Meifu able to utilise her talent? I was hoping we'd see her again at the Shoukanka."

"She had no reason to be a shinigami - there was nothing tying her to the world of the living. JuOhCho decreed that she should pass on."

"So her gift was lost along with her." How odd - JuOhCho were usually keen to take on new personnel with unusual spiritual abilities. Surely Kazusa's gift would have been invaluable in their line of work. Wasn't that the reason Saagatanus had pursued her in the first place - to prevent Meifu from using her to combat other demons? "So Saaga's fear was unfounded. He caused all that chaos and destruction for nothing."

"Tsuzuki, listen. I personally can understand your antipathy for Saagatanus - I share it as well. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted revenge. But as a Shinigami working for EnmaDaiOh, we have no jurisdiction over demons. Our powers are granted to us as instruments of JuOhCho, not for our own-"

"It wasn't me, Chief."

Konoe's gaze was searching. "Are you sure?"

"Much as I'd like to, I can't claim credit for Saaga's destruction." Tsuzuki put the cup down before his trembling fingers gave him away. "If I knew how to obliterate a demon's energy to kingdom come, I would have done it to Saagatanus years ago."

Konoe's craggy features were as hard and unmoving as rock. "You can be honest with me, Tsuzuki."

"My shikigami aren't capable of this. They only transform physical forms to their purest energy - after their attack, Saagatanus would be able to regain his form when he returned to the Demon World. Shikigami do not disperse energy. Increasing the level of entropy in any of the worlds is anathema to them."

"Not even for you? Suzaku violated your command once."

Tsuzuki bowed his head. "Suzaku Nee-san is hot-headed like the Fire she carries within her. But even she wouldn't leave disordered energy in her wake. None of them would. They fear chaos above all else."

"Very well," Konoe said quietly. He sipped his tea. "Then who is responsible? What do I tell EnmaDaiOh and Duke Ashitarote?"

Tsuzuki sipped his tea. "Tell Duke Ashitarote to look among his own kind for the answer."

"His own kind? But this would be in defiance of Duke Ashitarote's authority." Konoe lifted his bushy brows. "This is a serious claim. Do you think this is part of an internal uprising within the demon hierarchy?"

"I don't know, Chief. I'm just speculating."

"Being creatures of energy, demons cannot die as we know it. If demons could destroy each other, they would have incinerated themselves extinct aeons ago through infighting. But this is a first - the closest approximation to death for a demon. No wonder they are in a panic. The letter to EnmaDaiOh indicates how seriously they take this situation - they hardly ever inform us of their affairs. I doubt this is an internal revolt."

Tsuzuki rested his chin in one hand. Konoe's words were true for the demons they had encountered previously. But a demon who attacked with Water and sought sexual favours from a Shinigami instead of a fight...

Trust Muraki to defy the stereotype.

"Maybe there are demons who know how to attack with elements other than Fire."

Konoe frowned. "Demons are Fire-dependent by definition, Tsuzuki. Their hunger for fuel to maintain their flames is what makes them prey on humans." Konoe stroked his chin, a speculative look in his eye. "You know something." It was a statement, not a question.

"I know as much as you do," Tsuzuki replied. "It makes no sense to me either." _And I was the one who witnessed it._

"I see." Konoe said. He sipped his tea.

Tsuzuki did the same. "May I ask a question, Chief?"

Konoe paused, his cup held midway from his lips. "Yes, Tsuzuki?"

"Why haven't we conducted a proper investigation into Muraki Kazutaka? He's challenged the JuOhCho proceedings so many times, killed so many people in violation of the Kiseki, and we let him get away with it every time. Why is that?"

"It is not our job to judge our masters, Tsuzuki," Konoe replied curtly.

"But why aren't we looking for the underlying motivation for his actions? It makes no sense!" He looked at Konoe, brow furrowed in concentration. "There's something in his eye - something similar to the contract Hijiri had on his cornea. Could it be he's made some kind of pact-"

"He's a meddling human with an advanced knowledge of demonology, nothing more. He'll receive his judgement like everyone else when the time comes."

"I can't believe you're saying this. You're willing to turn a blind eye-"

"I receive my orders from EnmaDaiOh, just like you." Konoe took another sip of tea. "The tug of the leash only becomes tighter the more one resists."

Tsuzuki covered his mouth, his eyes narrowed. "Chief..."

"You have been given considerable leeway by the administration, Tsuzuki. Your leash remains lax as long as you stay within its reach." His gaze was bleak as he eyed Tsuzuki. "Believe me, you would not want to bring down their wrath."

Had Konoe challenged a summons from JuOhCho...perhaps an order from EnmaDaiOh himself? Tsuzuki never knew - the Chief rarely spoke of his time as an active Shinigami. Like everyone who worked in the Shoukanka, he kept his personal history very much to himself. Tsuzuki had known him for decades, but he knew nothing that mattered about his superior.

Then again, he'd never asked. He was too busy wrestling with his own guilt-ridden past.

"I'll keep that in mind, Chief." Tsuzuki drank the rest of the tea in one gulp, ignoring how it burned his throat. "So, is the Shoukanka going to start investigating demon deaths too?"

"No. If you believe a fellow demon was responsible for this incident, I will pass that statement on to EnmaDaiOh."

Tsuzuki dared to look up. He had been given a reprieve - for the time being. "Thank you, Chief. Is that all?"

"It's best that you forget about Muraki. As long as there are no new suspicious deaths, he is of no interest to us."


	15. Offertory spurned

Thanks to Demonprist and Gengkotsuya for their help and encouragement!

Thanks too to all who have kept reading. I'm really grateful for your comments, big and small - it's all your fault this fic is so long.

If you'd like to hear back from me and you don't have an account, please leave your email. Or feel free to email me - it's on my bio. It bothers me that there are some comments I can't reply to properly because there's no contact details.

Miss Kittin has done this ethereal portrait of Muraki...so soft and dreamy. Otakusoei has done a creepy, more sinister Muraki blatantly showing off his torso against a gothic backdrop of a moon and crimson sky. You can see them by visiting my site (see bio).

* * *

Chief Konoe's request was explicit.

But to Tsuzuki Asato, senior Shinigami in EnmaCho's Shoukanka, Muraki Kazutaka was an individual of intense interest - a fascination that threatened to become an obsession.

Forget about Muraki? He couldn't if he tried. More importantly, he didn't want to. EnmaCho's refusal to acknowledge Muraki as a threat only fuelled his curiosity.

With the silver hair samples in the breast pocket of his jacket, he visited Watari.

The laboratory was silent except for the scrape and tap of chalk as Watari wrote on a blackboard. A variety of birds kept him company: a penguin, a macaw, a goose, a pelican, a robin and 003 all perched on individual stools. 003 hooted and flew towards Tsuzuki when he entered the room.

"Hey, Tsuzuki! Come in! I was hoping you'd come to see this."

"See what?" Tsuzuki let 003 land on his shoulder as he goggled at the other birds. "Did you bring them all to life from your drawings?"

"003 gets lonely," Watari said, a trace of defensiveness in his voice. "She needs to spend time with her own kind."

"But none of them are owls. They're all different species."

"Hah! How do you know? When did you become a practising ornithologist?"

"Okay, okay." Tsuzuki hated it when Watari tossed out scientific jargon to show off his superior knowledge, but he reluctantly played along. "What is it you wanted to show me?"

"Grab a stool." Watari turned back to the blackboard and kept writing. "I have a lot of trouble drawing other owls. It was a stroke of genius I got 003 right when I did. I've never been able to replicate anything like her since. Sometimes creativity is like lightning - it never strikes twice."

Tsuzuki placed his stool behind the row of birds, while 003 fluttered back to her seat. It seemed rude to sit in front of them - he'd end up blocking their view. And they appeared to be paying attention to Watari, following his movements with their beady eyes, heads bobbing each time he changed direction.

"Watari, I'm here about the--"

"Quiet, everyone! No speaking in class!" Watari dusted chalk from his fingers and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Now who can tell me what is 22 times 3?"

Tsuzuki froze - those were the numbers on the anagram. In front of him, the goose honked.

"Very good! 22 times 3 equals 66." He wrote the completed sum on the board. "Now what is 22 plus 3?"

The pelican opened its big beak and squawked.

"Exactly! 25 it is! Now what is 22 divided by..."

Tsuzuki bowed his head and folded his arms, while the lab erupted in a cacophony of birdcalls.

"Hey! No sleeping at the back there! Answer the question! 22 divided by 3?"

Tsuzuki's reply was immediate. "7, remainder 1."

Watari blinked. "That's correct--"

"And 22 minus 3 is 19."

The birds turned on Tsuzuki, screeching and squawking their displeasure, their wings - flippers in the penguin's case - flapping in outrage.

"You're disrupting my class! Don't answer questions I haven't even asked yet!"

"And you're taking too long to make your point."

Watari sniffed. "I'm trying to jog your memory, because your anagram consists of a series of numbers and they don't correspond to any mathematical relationship I know of." He turned to the blackboard and drew a sketch. "The top part is III - three in Roman numerals. And the bottom part here is XXII - that's twenty-two."

Tsuzuki leaned forward. "What's the middle part?"

"It's an example of a monogram, a design created by combining letters so that one letter forms part of another. The earliest examples appeared using the Roman alphabet in the first century BC. You can still see them today in the insignia of royalty and military institutions, the emblems of exclusive fashion houses, and even the embroidered towels and bathrobes given as wedding gifts."

Tsuzuki thought of Muraki kneeling before him, head bowed, drying his hands with a towel. He shifted in his seat.

"The good news is that by studying many examples of monogram designs, I think I've worked out the letters in the centre." Watari grabbed a piece of coloured chalk and began to trace over the symbol. "This forms a cross, or X. And this part - if you ignore the curls and separate it out, it forms an elaborate V. Then there's the border at the bottom. You drew it so it extended halfway to the vertex of the V - I wasn't sure if that was carelessness - but then I noticed one arm of the V is thicker than the other. It forms a hidden letter - L. Isn't that clever?"

"X, V, L," Tsuzuki repeated. "What number is that?"

"Aha! That depends on the order." He wrote them separately on the board large enough for everyone to see. "In Roman numerals, L equals fifty and V equals five. So if we assume the number is LXV, the number is 65. But that makes no sense!" He whirled around to face Tsuzuki. "Twenty-two times three should equal 66! There must be a missing I! Are you sure you drew this properly?"

Tsuzuki stared at the letters, gaze narrowed. "Yes."

"Whoever thought up this anagram doesn't know basic maths. I even tried rearranging the order of the letters - XLV becomes 45, for example. But there's no way you can come up with 45 from 2 and 33."

Tsuzuki flexed his shoulders. "Maybe it isn't a number. Maybe it's a name."

"Well..." Watari rearranged the letters. "It is possible to make 'LVX' from the letters. In Roman times, "V' was used to represent the 'u' vowel. If we substitute 'U' for 'V,' it becomes LUX." He suddenly smiled. "Lux! That's the scientific measurement for the illumination of an object!"

Tsuzuki clenched his hands into fists. "Lux is also Latin for light."

Watari turned around. "I didn't know you knew Latin."

"I don't really. But I've heard a little from listening to funeral rites." Tsuzuki closed his eyes in concentration. "'_Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace_.'" When he opened his eyes and saw Watari's quizzical expression, he translated it: "Grant eternal rest unto him, Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. Rest in peace."

"Oh." Watari scratched his head and laughed. "I didn't think there were many Catholics in Japan."

"I'm sure you're right. The Catholics in Nagasaki are few in number, but they are devout practitioners of their faith." Tsuzuki didn't smile back. "You knew what it meant. You didn't need me to tell you."

Watari smiled sheepishly. "Well...it's your dream, right? The significance of the dream is something only you can determine. Anyway, that's what I've deciphered so far: 3, 22, LUX."

_Immeasurable light._

Muraki's power - brilliant white light. Saagatanus was dazzled by it. The buckles and the cat were imbued with its power. In his dream, Tsuzuki had been branded with its title.

Saagatanus knew - but there was no way to learn the truth from him now.

"The name 'Lucifer' means light-bearer," Watari mused aloud. "In Christian tradition, it's associated with Satan, the greatest of all the mythological demons. Then again, in that funeral rite you quoted, 'lux' refers to goodness, not evil. Parts of the Christian Bible refer to Jesus Christ as 'lux vera,' the true light. The reference doesn't necessarily imply evil. It all depends on the context. Why, in Greek literature, the title 'lucifer' was first given to Venus, the morning star--"

"Watari." Tsuzuki's voice was dangerously quiet. "You've done a lot of research on this, haven't you?"

"I can tell the anagram contains something of great significance - but I need to figure out the context." He went to Tsuzuki, and pulled out the scrap of paper Tsuzuki had given him. "You said you saw it on a body - but was it male or female? Dead or alive?"

Tsuzuki smiled brightly and stood up. "Don't worry about it - it was just a strange dream. You've worked on this long enough. Thank you for your help."

"But this is important, Tsuzuki! I can't help you unless I have more information--"

"He was an old man. A useless old man who died a long time ago and doesn't want to wake up again." He turned away from Watari's searching gaze to look at the unlit Bunsen burner and empty glassware hanging on the drying racks. "You've neglected your experiments to work on this, huh? I noticed it was quieter than usual when I came in."

"It's no trouble. I wanted to help." Watari held up the anagram again. "Are you sure there's nothing else? Are you sure you didn't see any other letters or lines?"

Tsuzuki walked past him. "You've even cleaned your bench. I never thought I'd see the day." The lab bench, usually cluttered with books and papers, was partially cleared for a small leather-bound Bible and a range of books on numerology, occult practices, and mathematics. "I'm so sorry. I honestly never meant to inconvenience you so much. Don't worry about it anymore. You've done more than enough work."

"But we have to figure out what it means!" Watari placed the paper on the bench so Tsuzuki couldn't miss it. "Tsuzuki, I've read about a secret tradition of numerology practised in some early branches of Christianity. They believed that certain numbers had powerful magical qualities. Because their numerical system was based on their alphabet, they were able to assign these special numbers to names, phrases, even entire sentences. The verse in the Book of Revelation about the number of the beast, 666, is the most well-known--"

A shiver of atavistic fear ran down Tsuzuki's spine. "I know, Watari. I know."

"--but there are many other Biblical examples as well. The '3' and '22' could refer to some word or name...or maybe '66' has some significance. I need to read more about it." He frowned as he looked at the anagram. "Tsuzuki, are you sure there aren't a couple of C's there? If that bottom number was 222, it would be a mystical triple number--"

"That's all there was." Tsuzuki picked up the paper, and resisted the urge to tear it to shreds. His shoulder blades began to ache. "If you want to investigate it further, you're welcome to do so. But I already know all that I wanted to know, thanks to you. There's no need to put yourself out if you have other things to do."

"It's no trouble at all! Give me another day and I'll see what I can do." He noticed Tsuzuki's pained look. "Is something wrong?"

Tsuzuki braced himself against the bench. He bit his lip as the sizzling pain went down his spine. "I feel a little hot. Could I get a glass of water?"

"Sure! Can one of you grab a glass?" he asked the birds.

They flew up as one flapping mass of feathers and swooped for the nearest sink. Honking plaintively, the penguin hopped off the stool and waddled after them in last place.

"Hey, not that one! That's non-potable water!" Watari ran after them, waving his hands wildly to attract their attention. "003, you should know better!"

In the ensuing chaos, Tsuzuki took off his jacket and placed it over the Bible. He undid the collar of his shirt and took deep breaths. He eased the pain yesterday in the hotel room. He knew he could do it again.

He shut his eyes and thought of cold water. He imagined rippling streams, torrential rains, splashing waterfalls...

Saagatanus spluttering and coughing and writhing in vain as the water poured down his throat...

Muraki's eyes glowing with approval...and his teeth marking his shoulder as reward.

_I will brand you with pleasure where he once branded you with pain._

A trickle of ice crept across his shoulders. The pain eased across his back.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes in relief. This erratic new power could be mastered like any other. He slid his arm beneath the fabric of the jacket to clasp the Bible. As he lifted it up, the jacket draped over his arm, concealing the book from view.

Watari held the glass of water aloft like a trophy. "Got it!" The robin was perched on one shoulder, the big macaw on the other. 003 roosted proudly atop Watari's head.

Tsuzuki drank it in one gulp. "Thanks, Watari. I should go - I've already disrupted your work enough for one day." Carefully he began to step over the pelican, penguin and goose at Watari's feet. "Thanks again!"

"Sure, any time. If you ever need my help, you know where I am."

Tsuzuki decided to keep the hair samples. Once Watari saw them, he would feel obliged to tell Konoe - the last thing Tsuzuki wanted. There was no need to place Watari in such an awkward situation. Tsuzuki knew of other methods to find out what he needed to know. "I'll remember that. See you later!"

Watari sighed once Tsuzuki left. "Some people don't have the attention span to focus in a classroom environment."

The birds chirped and squawked and honked and hooted in agreement.

* * *

It was a pleasant day outside, much like every other day in Meifu - warm and sunny with a welcome breeze to dispel the heat.

Tsuzuki walked past the sakura trees, a lone figure in black amid a sea of pink. Blossoms floated to the ground from boughs creaking under the weight of hundreds of pale pink flowers.

With each step, he crushed fallen petals into the ground. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice their fate.

The library building was off-limits to him after the Gushoshin imposed their library ban, and he didn't want to test the anti-shinigami defence system again. So he made a big detour around the building and headed for the maple trees that grew between the library and the dojo. Finding a secluded spot beneath one of the trees, he placed his jacket over the brilliant red leaves scattered on the ground and sat down. Occasionally he came here to read when he needed solitude - or when he was expelled from the library for making a nuisance of himself.

He leaned against the tree trunk. The gnarled bark was solid and rough, a reassuring weight against his back. He rested the Bible on his upraised knees. The gold cross embossed on the cover gleamed in the dappled sunlight.

His knowledge of Western religion was rudimentary, but he knew enough about Christianity to understand the main tenets and symbolism. All Shinigami received education in the major religions to assist them in their work. Showing an image of Jesus to a Christian or Kannon, Goddess of Mercy, to a Buddhist soothed the soul of the devout more than any official document from JuOhCho. Background information about a subject's beliefs and superstitions was extremely useful for a case.

Muraki never mentioned being Christian, but he had made enough allusions to Christian beliefs to make Tsuzuki wonder.

Tsuzuki opened the book and squinted as he skimmed Revelation. There were angels warning of impending disaster, followed by a parade of strange beasts of such fantastic description that it became difficult to tell one beast from the next.

_...I saw a beast rising up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and on his horns ten crowns, and on his heads a blasphemous name. Now the beast which I saw was like a leopard, his feet were like the feet of a bear, and his mouth like the mouth of a lion... And I saw one of his heads as if it had been mortally wounded, and his deadly wound was healed..._

Miraculous recuperative powers. Hmm.

_Then I saw another beast coming up out of the earth, and he had two horns like a lamb and spoke like a dragon. And he exercises all the authority of the first beast in his presence, and causes the earth and those who dwell in it to worship the first beast, whose deadly wound was healed. He performs great signs, so that he even makes fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men... He causes all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hand or on their foreheads, and that no one may buy or sell except one who has the mark or the name of the beast, or the number of his name._

_Here is wisdom. Let him who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the name of a man. His number is 666._

His anagram was written on his body, not his hand or forehead. When the top and bottom numbers were multiplied together, they equalled sixty-six - six hundred short. He was under no illusion that he had the deep voice of a dragon. And he had no horns like a lamb. Not yet, anyway.

Tsuzuki touched his head, then chuckled ruefully at his own foolishness.

"Tsuzuki-san?" Gushoshin Younger floated before him. "What are you doing out here? You're not planning another attack on the library, are you?"

"Hey! I'm obeying your library ban." Tsuzuki shut the book and smiled. "It's a nice day for reading outdoors and work is quiet. So how are you? How's everything going with the demon database?"

"We need to double-check names. There's been a problem with spelling some of them. Some demons have adopted multiple names to confuse us!"

"Well, that's understandable. Demons need to be protective of their names. But it's more work for you, huh?"

"Yes. Keeping track of all the demons out there is no easy task." The Gushoshin floated to roost on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "What are you reading?"

Tsuzuki showed him the Bible. "I'm refreshing my memory on Christian beliefs. You never know when it might come in useful."

"That's good." It shifted from one foot to the other. "Reading is a much more constructive hobby than random acts of violence and destruction."

"It is, yeah." Tsuzuki eyed it questioningly. "Did you want to speak to me?"

"No. Don't let me interrupt you from your reading." The bird spirit fluffed its feathers out, but didn't move from its spot.

"Okay." Tsuzuki opened the Bible and flicked through Genesis. There were references to covenants here somewhere - around the time of Noah and the great flood. He bent his head forward to read. If only he'd brought his reading glasses. The print was so small...

The Gushoshin bent forward to look at Tsuzuki. "Do you think Muraki was Christian?"

Tsuzuki jerked up so fast the bird spirit almost fell off his shoulder. "Gushoshin!"

"Hey!" The bird spirit waved its arms wildly, its talons clutching Tsuzuki's shirt. "Don't make such sudden moves!"

"Then don't shock me like that! He's got nothing to do with it!"

"Yes, he has!" the bird squawked. It floated around to face Tsuzuki at eye level. "I remember what happened that night in Nagasaki."

"You...you do?"

"Of course I do! I'm not as powerful as a Shinigami, but I can combat spells. It took me two days, but my own spiritual energy triumphed in the end! Why did you put a spell on me?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't want anyone to worry about me...and I didn't have time to explain." The Gushoshin were beings of pure energy. He should have known they couldn't be manipulated as easily as a living person. "So...when did you know?"

"This morning. When I woke up, it was like a fog had lifted over my mind. I remember the dinner at the ramen restaurant, the argument in the bathroom, the argument on the street, the weird kissing--"

Tsuzuki grabbed its beak shut. "That's great! You're completely recovered." He looked around. "Have you told anyone?"

The Gushoshin settled on Tsuzuki's knee and tried to shake its head.

"Good. I don't want anyone to know about this, not even your brother." Tsuzuki released the bird's beak. "We have to keep this secret, okay?"

"But I don't understand! Why are you chasing him when he's not a suspect in a new case? He's nothing but trouble, and you know it!"

"We know he's the person responsible in at least three cases over the past four years...and who knows how many deaths before that. Hisoka was cursed to die by Muraki's hand and an investigation was never instigated. Don't you ever wonder why?"

"We don't have unlimited resources to investigate every suspicious death," the Gushoshin reminded him. "The Shoukanka is only called in when a series of deaths occur without explanation, and supernatural interference is suspected. You should be grateful - the workload would be impossible if you had to investigate every single suspicious death out there."

"I know. A few deaths scattered here and there may have escaped attention. But if we assume Muraki first began killing the year he cursed Hisoka, then he's escaped punishment for about seven or eight years now." Tsuzuki lowered his gaze to the Bible. "Konoe doesn't want me to investigate him, but I feel he's hiding something. It's as if he's afraid."

"Of course he's afraid! Have you seen the repair bill you generate together? The Shoukanka's finances can't cope with any more damages like that!"

Tsuzuki looked sheepish. "I know. But...but things are different. We don't fight like that now." He kept Muraki's vaguely ominous prediction about the full moon to himself. No point alarming Gushoshin Younger more than necessary.

"You're seeing him, aren't you?" the bird spirit whispered in horror. "But you know the rules! Shinigami must always work together in pairs!"

"I know, but I don't want to risk anyone else--" Tsuzuki could hear voices. "Hush. Someone's coming." Quickly he murmured the words of the vanishing spell. Gushoshin Younger followed his example.

Between the trunks of the maple trees, he caught sight of Hisoka and Tatsumi outside the library. They stood apart, each facing the other and respectful of the other's personal space. Tatsumi handed a book to Hisoka, who bowed and accepted it.

"Tatsumi-san was looking for some books on kagetsu magic earlier," the bird spirit whispered. "Is he really going to teach Hisoka-san?"

"Looks like it."

Hisoka always wanted to prove himself equal in ability as a Shinigami. Tsuzuki knew he sometimes resented their disparity in power, though Hisoka never revealed his feelings in words. But he had seen the occasional envy in Hisoka's eyes...a more muted version of Terazuma's jealousy.

So he knew Hisoka wouldn't accept Tatsumi's power fearfully - he would welcome it as the gift it was intended to be.

They bowed again. Hisoka entered the library. Tatsumi headed to the main building.

Tsuzuki waited until Tatsumi was out of sight before reappearing. "Hisoka learning from Tatsumi...it's a good thing for them both."

Gushoshin Younger frowned. "But you're Hisoka's partner, not him."

"I know, and I still am. But sometimes...sometimes an outsider can provide help in ways a partner never can." Tsuzuki smiled wistfully when the bird spirit remained puzzled. "Like you, for example. You can help me look up information much more efficiently than anyone else in the Shoukanka. I wouldn't ask Hisoka to do such things - I'd call an expert like you."

"Well..." The bird spirit pondered this piece of good advice. "That's true."

"Of course it is! Which is why I need your help now. I need you to look up a few things in your demon database - firstly, any reports of a demon using other elements besides Fire or capable of radiating a powerful white light."

"A demon that uses light?"

"Yes. Secondly, I need to know if there has been any history of insurgency under Duke Ashitarote's rule and the names of those involved."

"Wait a minute! We have enough trouble identifying demons, let alone figuring out what they've been up to!"

"I know, I know. But if you come across any reports of demons fighting among themselves as you work on the database, please tell me."

"It's for your investigation into Muraki, isn't it? You're disobeying the rules!" The bird spirit bounced on Tsuzuki's knee in agitation. "Shinigami should work in pairs!"

"Hey, I'm getting your help, right? That makes us a pair." Tsuzuki straightened the cap on the bird's head before it slid off. "This is important to me, Gushoshin. Muraki has hurt so many people, and it needs to stop. This is one case I have to solve once and for all."

The bird ruffled its feathers and sighed. "All right. But you know how dangerous Muraki is. A man like him can't be trusted."

"I know," Tsuzuki replied. He reached around to rub one shoulder blade. "Believe me, I know."

With Gushoshin Younger watching over his shoulder and interrupting him with questions about Muraki, Tsuzuki didn't get much reading done under the maple tree. Only after promising he wouldn't summon his shikigami in Muraki's presence did the Gushoshin retreat to the library, and Tsuzuki went back to his office.

Hisoka was at the library, and the work trays were empty. Neither of them was required by the Shoukanka.

Tsuzuki put on his trenchcoat. He still didn't know Muraki's ultimate scheme, but there was no doubting Muraki's ultimate objective. He had clothed his request in sexual favours, and Tsuzuki was too blinded by lust to understand until now.

Muraki wanted power, and therefore he sought energy. Once he accumulated energy by draining others and killing them. Now his methods were more direct and lascivious in nature, but the objective was unchanged.

Maybe by giving Muraki the energy he needed by a different method, he could nourish him a little - at least buy time while he uncovered the demon responsible for the covenant. The tricky part would be persuading Muraki to accept this alternative - his stubbornness wouldn't make it easy.

Tsuzuki placed the Bible in the inside pocket of his coat, and belted it up.

It was worth a try.

* * *

Deprived of access to the library in Meifu, Tsuzuki went to the city library in Nagasaki. He read about occult practices, and pored over a section devoted to Tarot cards. He remembered how Muraki understood the Minor Arcana cards Tsubaki/Eileen left with each of the victims on the Queen Camellia. Each of the four suits represented one of the four main elements in Western mysticism: Cups for Water, Wands for Fire, Coins or Pentacles for Earth, Swords for Air.

Tsuzuki sat back in his seat, his hand over his mouth as he pondered this. Eastern element theory was similar except that Metal was substituted for Air, and Wind - the movement of Air - was considered an additional power associated with one who controlled Metal. Tsuzuki already knew this, for he acknowledged this dual power in his invocation to Byakko:

_Blade of air and steel of vacuum bearing fangs of silvery-white! Appear before me, Byakko!_

He looked again at each of the four suits. He had an idea.

* * *

With the 20,000 yen change Muraki had given him, he went shopping.

He bought a steel grey lighter with a satin finish from a tobacconist - the modern equivalent of the Fire-bearing Wand.

He bought an onyx-encased fountain pen from the stationery section of a department store. With its rippling layers of black, red and white quartz, Tsuzuki hoped Muraki would recognise its Earthly origin and significance.

The jewellery store beckoned with its sparkling display of watches and gems and crystal ware. There was a large selection of pewter tankards and goblets, as well as crystal decanters and fine glassware. But the prices made him frown. He never knew these things were so expensive.

Maybe a cup wasn't practical for Tsuzuki's purpose. It had to be something small enough for Muraki to carry close at all times - the type of magic he had in mind wouldn't work over long distance.

A selection of cufflinks caught his eye. Tsuzuki was delighted when he caught a sterling silver pair of square cufflinks decorated with mother-of-pearl. Then he noticed the price tag. Damn.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you?" the saleslady asked.

Tsuzuki smiled sheepishly. "I'm looking for a gift for a...a friend of mine. These cufflinks are beautiful...but do you have a similar style that's less expensive?"

She showed him a set of smaller cufflinks made of silver plated brass. The mother-of-pearl was perfect - silver-white with occasional flashes of blue and pink as it reflected the light. Tsuzuki held one of them up to eye level. What would Muraki think? Muraki was a man of wealth and means - maybe he would laugh at the idea of wearing silver-plated jewellery.

As long as the cufflinks contained a product of Water, the setting made no difference to Tsuzuki. But if Muraki rejected them at first glance, his plan would be ruined.

The saleslady noticed his indecision. "The sterling silver ones do look more distinguished. Their prominence will add class to any man's wardrobe."

After examining them, Tsuzuki reluctantly agreed. Looking distinguished was important to Muraki. He chose the mother-of-pearl cufflinks in sterling silver.

"Excellent choice, sir! I'm sure your friend will love them. How will you pay?"

"Oh, I haven't finished yet. I need to get another present."

Metal would be easy - the only problem was deciding what piece of jewellery to give him. Earrings - no. He never took off the ruby studs: maybe they held a special significance for him. Necklace - no. A younger man might wear it, but Muraki's tastes were more conservative. Ring - definitely not. Muraki would get the wrong idea.

The display of glittering bracelets caught his eye, but the prices made his jaw drop. No gemstones - he would never be able afford them. Gold was also out of the question - it wouldn't suit Muraki's pale complexion anyway.

One bracelet, a flat hinged silver bangle, reminded him of a thin handcuff. The thought of Muraki wearing it made his heart beat a little faster, and the pain start between his shoulder blades.

"I like this one myself," the saleslady said. "Understated and elegant. It's ideal for business or formal occasions. Some men think that women only appreciate glitzy gemstones, but that's not true at all."

"This...is this a woman's bracelet?"

"Yes. Who are you buying this second gift for?"

"A man." Tsuzuki laughed at himself. "I'm new to this. I honestly can't tell the difference!"

"Oh, that's all right. This present is for another man?"

"No, no! It's for the same man."

"Ohhh." The woman smiled knowingly. "Then he is very fortunate to have a generous friend like you."

Tsuzuki blushed and shook his head. Muraki was anything but fortunate.

The saleslady showed him a selection of engraved bangles, wide cuff bracelets, as well as link and chain bracelets in a variety of styles. The chunky chain ID bracelets appealed to Tsuzuki very much, but they were out of his price range. He settled for a sterling silver flat mesh bracelet. Worn close to the wrist, it would be easy to conceal beneath the sleeve of a shirt.

Tsuzuki cast a longing look at the thick chain bracelets, then shook his head at his own vanity. Who cared if the bracelet remained unseen? As long as Muraki wore it, his plan would work.

* * *

With the leftover change, he bought wrapping paper, scissors, tape and ribbon. There wasn't enough money left to eat a proper meal so he grabbed a can of tea from a dispensing machine and sipped it on a park bench in the peaceful surroundings of Glover Park. He watched the sky change from blue to pink-gold as the sun began to set in the west.

When he was sure he was alone, he placed his hands together and whispered the summoning spell.

Byakko appeared before him in animal form - his head bent, white fur rippling in the breeze, as tall as a grown man. "Tsuzuki!" He came forward and licked Tsuzuki's face in greeting.

Tsuzuki embraced Byakko's neck and buried his face in the fluffy white fur. "It's so good to see you, Byakko! I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Don't be silly," Byakko snorted. "It is right that I serve you. You are my master." He lashed his tail impatiently, creating swirling eddies of air around them both. "Why haven't you come to visit us in Gensoukai? Kijin and Tenkou ask after you all the time."

"I've been busy lately," Tsuzuki explained. "A Shinigami's work is never done. I've been planning to visit--"

"I remember when you visited us all the time. We had so much fun together, remember?"

"I know." Tsuzuki stroked his head and scratched behind his ears. "I still remember." His shikigami were the one constant in his seventy plus years of service at the Shoukanka. Each time a partner left him, he would visit Gensoukai and find solace in their company. In many of his lowest moments, it was the thought of his responsibility to them that kept him going. They had chosen him as master - it was up to him to use them wisely and well. "It's just...I have commitments here and in Meifu. Please tell Kijin and Tenkou to be patient. Play with them in my place, okay?"

"Okay. I know you've had less time to visit us since you began working with Hisoka." Byakko looked around. "Is he here with you?"

"He's back in Meifu. I'm working on my own this time." Tsuzuki took out the jewellery box and opened it up. "I have a favour to ask of you."

Byakko's eyes lit up. "That's a handsome bracelet."

Tsuzuki presented it to him. "Please bless this for me. Charge it with your energy, the preserving strength of Metal combined with the swiftness of Wind."

Byakko closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, and blew gently over the silver bracelet. His breath was as cold as the penetrating winds that whipped the mountains with snow and sleet, freezing all living things in its path. Tsuzuki felt pins and needles in his fingers, followed by the numbness of frostbite, but he didn't let go. This was the power of the White Tiger, the lord of the mountains - the very same power he faced during their first meeting in the forests of Gensoukai when he challenged Byakko for the right to be his master.

"There." Byakko opened his eyes, sharp ears pointing at lopsided angles on his head. "As you have wished, so it is done."

* * *

He did the same with the other three gifts, charging them with elemental energy.

Impulsive Suzaku flapped her wings wildly and breathed fire over the lighter and into the air, so happy she was to be summoned. Souryuu was more restrained, as befitting the majestic shikigami entrusted with Gensoukai - he breathed clouds of water vapour from his nostrils to purify the mother-of-pearl cufflinks.

Genbu, the ancient black snake-tortoise, remained inside his shell when he materialised. His gleaming black oval carapace was the size of a small car, and protected with thick plates of armour. A row of smaller spikes lined each side of his carapace. First his leathery crocodile-like muzzle peeked out, ugly spike-like protuberances adorning the front of his upper and lower jaw. A second pair of spikes grew from each side of his head, pointing down like a grotesque imitation of rabbit's ears. He blinked sleepily in the afternoon light as he surveyed his new surroundings.

"Genbu! I hope I didn't interrupt you--"

His serpentine neck lashed out like a whip. His head hovered before Tsuzuki to look him in the eye.

"Tsuzuki. For so long you have ignored me--" he said in a deep rasping voice.

"No, no, Genbu! I always remembered you! But I know you're old, and you're not keen on fighting anymore--"

"I am the Black Warrior," Genbu reminded him, golden reptilian eyes flashing. He came to his feet and lifted his neck high. Tsuzuki had to look up to meet his gaze. "As God of Earth, I once tamed rivers and battled demons. I would receive the prayers of warriors who faced imminent battle, and calm their spirits with determination and courage."

"I know, Genbu."

"I can wreak terrible destruction as you well know, but I possess other gifts. I could have strengthened your resolve with my wisdom during your Kyoto case." He stepped back slowly, and the ground shook with each ponderous step. "You could have sought my guidance but you forgot about me, the same as the humans who once paid me homage."

Tsuzuki came after him. "That's untrue. I didn't forget. I just..." He swept his hair off his face, desperate to be understood. "I wouldn't have listened to anyone, Genbu, no matter how wise they were."

"So you wanted to end your pain. You wanted the final peace of death." The reptile tilted his head thoughtfully. "Do you long for the same peace now?"

Tsuzuki bowed his head, unsure how to answer. The guilt was an ever-present weight on his conscience. "I...I have learnt that I have friends who care for me very much. I don't want them to be hurt by my foolishness. I don't want them to be upset because of me."

"So you live by the will of others." Genbu drew out the last word in a sibilant hiss. "I understand." He draped his neck in a loose coil over Tsuzuki's shoulders. "But remember - humans are fickle creatures, inconstant in their loyalty. They have memories as fleeting as their lifespan."

"It doesn't matter. As long as they care, I will stay." He placed his hand beneath the leathery skin of the reptile's jaw. "Forgive me, Genbu. I haven't been much of a master to you."

Genbu cradled his head against Tsuzuki's palm. "You are old by human standards, but a baby when compared to divine commanders such as us. I knew this when I accepted you as master. I stand by my judgement then as I do now." He lifted himself from Tsuzuki, neck arched, head bent forward like a snake about to strike. "Ask and it will be done."

Tsuzuki took out the onyx fountain pen. "Please bless this for me. Charge it with your energy, the immutable power of Earth that bends Water to its will."

Genbu lifted one foot and stamped the ground, setting off a violent tremor throughout the park. Tree branches shook. Birds became silent. Tsuzuki lost his balance and stumbled backwards. A small crack appeared in the ground.

"Place it here," Genbu instructed.

"Try not to stamp so hard, okay? The last thing I want to do is trigger an earthquake."

Genbu hissed in annoyance. "The earth has become fragile in my absence." He waited until Tsuzuki had placed the pen down, then breathed on the pen and stamped again. The ground closed up around it.

Tsuzuki reminded himself to clean the pen later. Muraki would never accept a gift covered in dirt.

With slow careful steps Genbu stood over the spot where the pen was buried. With one foot, then two, and finally all four in rapid succession, he made the ground shudder. Grass and soil flew around him. The trees shook, leaves fell to the ground. Light poles swayed from side to side. Only by bracing his legs apart did Tsuzuki remain standing.

"Stop, Genbu! Enough!"

"It is done." Genbu stepped back and opened the ground with one more stamp of his foot.

Relieved, Tsuzuki picked up the pen. "Why couldn't you breathe on it like everyone else? If I'd known it would take this much violence--"

"My stamping was not merely to energise it. Look around you."

The branches of the trees grew out and up, new leaves sprouting before Tsuzuki's eyes. On the ground, shoots of grass sprang up around them.

"Once upon a time, the land was as lush and green as this." Genbu swung his head high to regard the city of Nagasaki below them. "The earth would tremble and erupt, searing the ground even as it released its treasure of life-giving minerals, the foundation of all life. But humans have forgotten their place in the cycle that binds all living things. They have depleted the Earth of its primordial energy." He turned back to eye Tsuzuki. "Let this be your reason for your existence as a Shinigami. Culling human lives is the only way to sustain the world of the living as you know it. Earth, like all elements, is not an infinite resource."

Chastened, Tsuzuki bowed. Genbu held the wisdom of the ages - his advice, when he chose to impart it, was always sound. "I will remember your words, Genbu. But this grass..." He looked around nervously. "The city gardeners will mow it down. People see such overgrowth as a sign of neglect."

"Really? Foolish humans." He stamped the ground once more, and the grass grew until it reached Tsuzuki's knees. "There, that will show them. Those who attempt to tame the Earth do so at their peril."

"Ahh! That's..." Tsuzuki hid his horror behind the brightest smile he could muster. "That's...wonderful! More than enough work for an old man." He patted Genbu's armoured shell. "Thanks for your help. You deserve to rest after such activity."

That was the real reason he seldom summoned Genbu - his willfulness made him a tricky God to command at the best of times, and his seismic stamping in quake-prone Japan could trigger more destruction than Suzaku, Souryuu, and Byakko working in unison. If he used Genbu regularly on his cases, Chief Konoe and Tatsumi would be even more upset with him than they were already.

* * *

That evening, Tsuzuki appeared outside Muraki's apartment building. The gifts were wrapped in silver paper and tied with red ribbon. Everything was ready.

With some trepidation, he approached the entrance. This time he would enter Muraki's apartment by the front door, respecting the physical laws that bound the living. He didn't want Muraki to expend energy on his behalf any more. This covenant had taken a terrible toll on him - Tsuzuki's goal was to stop it.

He pressed the intercom button for the penthouse suite, and waited. No answer. He pressed it for longer, and waited. Still no answer. Tsuzuki frowned. He was sure he had the right building. He pressed it a third time.

The speaker crackled to life. "Who is it?" The voice was curt and abrupt, but definitely Muraki's.

"It's me, Tsuzuki." He cleared a throat that felt dry with tension. "I thought you were expecting me."

A long pause. "I was...but not ringing my doorbell. Such politeness is highly unusual for you." The door unlocked. "Come on up."

Being in the elevator brought back memories of the first time he came here. He had struggled under Muraki's roving hands, but not very much. Tsuzuki's lips twisted in rueful amusement - that summed up his entire behaviour in their strange relationship. His gaze darted about, a little unnerved at how his image bounced off the mirrored walls to form reflections of reflections stretching into infinity. He caught sight of himself: dark hair falling into disarray over eyes that were bright with anticipation. His cheeks were warm. The corners of his mouth were tilted up, ever so slightly...

He looked away, disturbed at what he saw. Too distracting.

The lift slowed to a halt. The doors slid open. Muraki stood before him, dressed in his white yukata. He pointed a semi-automatic pistol squarely at Tsuzuki's chest.

Tsuzuki blinked, stunned. Bullets were nothing to a Shinigami...but this wasn't the reception he expected.

Muraki frowned.

"This must be the wrong floor," Tsuzuki joked. He lunged for the buttons.

"No!" Muraki slammed his free arm over one of the sliding doors and stepped inside. "This isn't for you." He looked around the elevator, then up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes. "Did any person enter the building with you?"

"I was alone. Are you expecting someone else?"

Muraki lowered the gun. "Whatever gave you that idea, Tsuzuki-san?" He suddenly smiled and put his arm around Tsuzuki's shoulders. "I was expecting you to appear before me in your customary dramatic fashion." He flicked on the safety catch as he guided Tsuzuki inside. "This was merely a precaution against unwelcome visitors interrupting our precious time together."

"I see." Tsuzuki cast him a suspicious look. These unwelcome visitors - could they be human? Muraki already knew about his recuperative powers - that was why he had been chosen as the subject for his head transplantation experiment in Kyoto. A bullet would not stop a spiritual entity. And there were magical options for keeping out physical and spiritual intruders.

Was Muraki's power so depleted a simple defensive ward was beyond him?

"Do you prefer me appearing out of the blue and violating your privacy?" Tsuzuki asked.

"You are so cute." Muraki squeezed his shoulder. "What is privacy to intimate acquaintances such as us? It is a meaningless term, used only by those ashamed and fearful of the ultimate melding of body, mind and spirit." He leaned across to nuzzle Tsuzuki's ear. "I have spent this afternoon purifying myself in preparation for you. Please forgive my oversight yesterday - of course you would never show yourself in the presence of that worm's vile stench."

Nameless dread filled Tsuzuki as his back began to ache again. He tried to step away, but stopped when he felt the cat rubbing its head against his calf. "Don't talk such nonsense! I don't care what you do with yourself!"

Muraki yanked him around so they faced each other. "Really? Then why do you come here? Why do you share my bed? Why do you beg and cry out when I--"

Tsuzuki shook his head wildly. "Never mind about that! I meant what I said this morning...I'm not interested in doing that anymore. That's not why I'm here."

Muraki released him and chuckled as he flicked his hair behind one ear. "Tsuzuki-san, I distinctly recall having this conversation during every one of our dates--"

"These aren't dates, dammit! I am conducting an investigation into you and the demonic interference in your life!"

"--and the final outcome each time was exactly the same. But if it will help jog your memory..." With a wicked glint in his good eye, Muraki untied his robe.

"Wait!" Tsuzuki averted his gaze and shoved the shopping bag in front of him to preserve Muraki's modesty - or lack of it. "I come to you bearing gifts!"

"Gifts? For me?"

"Yes! As a...a token of my appreciation for your...generosity." Tsuzuki glanced up, then away. Muraki's open yukata left nothing to the imagination.

Muraki's gaze narrowed. He lifted his glasses up to read the store label printed on the bag.

"I guess it's not as upmarket as what you're used to..." Tsuzuki dropped the bag, and found himself staring at Muraki's bare chest...and ribcage...and abdomen... "Hey, why don't we sit down and you can open them!" He took a step back, and almost tripped over the cat attempting to entwine itself around his ankles.

The feline hissed and scurried for shelter behind Muraki's legs.

Muraki's features were unreadable. "Very well, then." Slowly he tied the belt of his yukata and picked up the cat.

Tsuzuki fumbled with the parcels as he placed them on the coffee table. Inwardly he cursed himself - with his wealth, Muraki would never frequent chainstore jewellery outlets and ubiquitous department stores. Showing him the bag was an idiotic mistake. He quickly folded it away as Muraki sat beside him on the sofa.

There was a haughty tilt to Muraki's head as he stared down at them. "Are these all for me?"

"Well, yes...if you want them. Or you can pick the ones you like best...if any."

Muraki reached for the box containing the lighter, then paused, his fingers on the verge of touching the wrapping. His brow furrowed, and his lips curled in displeasure.

The cat stepped from Muraki's lap to the table. It went straight to the lighter and began cuffing the red ribbon with its paws.

Muraki switched his attention to the mother-of-pearl cufflinks. Slowly he lowered his fingers to touch the parcel. He picked it up in his hand, as if assessing its weight.

Tsuzuki watched, mesmerised. He pressed his steepled fingers to his lips to keep himself silent in case he disrupted Muraki's concentration.

Muraki's grip tightened around the parcel until his knuckles turned white. He looked as if he might hurl it to the floor, so fierce was his expression. After a moment's pause, he calmly placed it back on the table beside the cat. The feline yowled and jumped to the floor.

"Don't you want to open them?"

"Not particularly." The fountain pen was next. Muraki placed his hand over it and closed his eyes. The furrow between his brow eased, but he did not pick up or open the wrapping.

Tsuzuki deliberated on what he had seen. Muraki rejected Fire and passed over Water. Earth held some fascination, but not enough to hold his interest.

_...I am in my element with objects of metal..._

But Muraki ignored the bracelet. He looked at Tsuzuki, his gaze cold and remote. "These offerings do not interest me."

"Offerings?" Tsuzuki laughed at the word. "They're hardly that. It's the least I could do with your leftover change," he admitted. "I mean, you've taken me out to dinner, lent me money, taught me golf...it's high time I did something to return the favour--"

"I am yours. I belong to no other." Muraki grabbed Tsuzuki by the jaw, forcing it up. "I have no use for charmed trinkets. I must feed from the source."

"No! I said I wasn't--"

Muraki shoved him against the sofa. His lips devoured and sucked, his hands sought and found.

Tsuzuki stiffened against him. Muraki's firm grip brought his cock to twitching life, and melted his resolutions to mush. He pushed against Muraki's shoulders, and the white yukata slid free. He writhed and arched, and it only spurred Muraki to increase the rhythm of his strokes.

Finally he groaned and surrendered, his fingers spasmodically clenching as he dug his nails into Muraki's back.

Muraki lifted his head, his glasses askew, his own breathing heavy. "Come for me." He squeezed the crown with his thumb until a drop of precome appeared. He licked his lips then bent down to taste it.

Tsuzuki whimpered, jaw clenched against a plea for more. He refused to offer himself to that ravenous mouth - last night's sweet torture without relief was still fresh in his mind. But he didn't struggle when Muraki stroked his shaft with more vigour, sending waves of pleasure vibrating through him. He panted, his head resting against the arm of the sofa, eyes slitted as he watched Muraki's stern features.

"Don't you...ever...give up?" he managed to gasp.

"Never." Muraki lay on his side, one arm snaking beneath Tsuzuki's shoulders to cradle him close, the other stroking his cock to throbbing hardness. "Feed me. Nourish me. Break the seal that binds you - you know you have the power."

Tsuzuki choked back a groan out as Muraki released his cock to fondle his balls, still hidden within the folds of his clothing. He was semi-dressed, incredibly enough - his trousers and underpants chafed against his thighs and buttocks, while his torso remained fully clothed. "This...this is...crazy. I-I can't..."

"Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki's voice held a tremor of desperation. His good eye glittered wildly through the smudged lens of his glasses. He seized Tsuzuki's cock once more. "Come for me...please. What more...must I do? What more...do you want?" He kissed him again, fiercely. "I must feed!"

"Muraki..." The jagged pain in Muraki's voice penetrated the drugging euphoria of lust. "It's no...use." A dim memory floated on the wisps of consciousness - Tatsumi murmuring reassurances, serving him with selfless tenderness and restraint to no avail.

"Focus on yourself! You know you need this!"

"Not your fault." Tsuzuki touched his cheek. "I tried before - it never worked. Stop...before it becomes agony for us both. Please."

Muraki scrunched his eyes shut. He turned away from Tsuzuki's hand as if it scorched him. Without a word, he lifted himself from the sofa and stood up, shoulders hunched.

"Muraki?"

"I need to change," he said tightly. "I promised to take you to dinner."

Tsuzuki blinked as he watched Muraki's nude figure storm to the bedroom. His own breathing was still ragged, his heart pounding, his cock aching for completion. How could Muraki switch emotions so quickly - urgent lust one minute, closed indifference the next?

Tsuzuki clumsily put his own clothing to rights. His gaze fell on the table without conscious thought. The parcel containing the lighter was missing. He bent down to check the floor. The cat was playing with it. It had already torn open the wrapping, but the box was proving difficult to open with its claws. When Tsuzuki picked it up, the feline hissed and scratched his hand.

"Calm down. I'm only trying to help." Tsuzuki flipped open the box and held out the lighter.

The cat pounced, knocking the lighter from Tsuzuki's hand and diving on it like a hunter with prey.

When Muraki emerged a few minutes later, elegant and distinguished in black tuxedo, he scowled when he saw the cat's new plaything.

Tsuzuki pushed himself up from the floor. "At least someone appreciates my gifts."

Muraki snorted in reply and threw a new pair of velvet gloves at him.

Tsuzuki snatched them in mid-air and threw them on the coffee table. The clatter of buckles echoed in the room. "Why should I accept your 'gift' when you won't even open mine?" He grabbed the bracelet. "You completely ignored this one!"

"What does it matter? Your taste is crude and common, utterly lacking in sophistication. There is nothing in that parcel to interest me." Muraki turned away. "There is no comparison between our gifts."

Tsuzuki was stunned. He had spent most of the afternoon worrying about the suitability of each item, searching for something that would please Muraki's discerning taste. True, he was ignorant about the latest fashions and trends, but he had done his best with the money available. To have Muraki dismiss them and him...

It enraged him. And somewhere deep inside, it hurt.

"I don't give a--" He bit back the profanity, and reined in his temper. "I'm not wearing your gloves any more! I'm too crude for them - you said so yourself!"

Muraki shrugged as he dusted imaginary lint from his shoulders. "As you wish."

The bastard. Tsuzuki couldn't believe he'd actually felt sorry for him minutes ago. Muraki had well and truly manipulated him on the sofa. So much for his need. So much for his pain. So much for...

The cat rolled on the carpet, the lighter clasped between its front paws, tail curling and uncurling in delight.

"Come!" Muraki barked.

It meowed loudly once, then rolled on all fours and deserted the lighter for its master's side.

On a hunch, Tsuzuki slid the wrapped bracelet in his pocket.

"You are woefully underdressed for the establishment we are about to visit," Muraki said. "But the service is excellent, so I believe they will discreetly ignore your inappropriate attire."

"Fine by me," Tsuzuki replied lightly. Muraki wasn't the only who could put on an act. "Let's go."

* * *

Note: The Biblical quotes are from Revelation 13, New King James Version.

* * *


	16. Tsuzuki's choice

Thanks to Demonprist and Gengkotsuya for their help. And thanks to those who've kept reading and offered comments as well - I appreciate the support!

* * *

They went to Shianbashi, the bustling entertainment district in the south of the city. Muraki nudged the Ferrari through narrow lanes beneath a canopy of multicoloured neon signs, past seedy bars that only came alive at midnight, and deserted pachinko parlours blaring loud music, until they reached a traditional Edo period building on the outskirts of Shianbashi. 

Muraki parked in an adjacent alleyway. "Here we are. This establishment began life as a brothel, but is now a restaurant serving some of the finest shippoku cuisine in Nagasaki."

"Shippoku? I thought such restaurants required advance bookings--"

"I made a reservation yesterday for the two of us."

How presumptuous - Muraki had correctly assumed he would visit in time for dinner. But Tsuzuki kept these thoughts to himself as he got out of the car.

Muraki locked the doors, leaving the cat inside.

"Will it be okay in there?"

"The temperature inside is neither uncomfortably hot or cold. The air vents are open so it is unlikely to suffocate." He cast an annoyed look Tsuzuki's way.

Tsuzuki chose to ignore it. He followed Muraki inside to be greeted by obsequious staff bowing before them. Instead of walking into the main dining area, they were led through shadowy corridors to a large private room. Painted scrolls lined the walls, depicting carp and birds and landscapes with meticulous detail and vivid colours. A low round red lacquer table with an elevated rotating tabletop stood in the centre of the room. Mats and cushions were provided for sitting on one's knees at the table.

Refusing a hostess's offer to take his coat, Tsuzuki placed it by his side as he knelt at the table. Muraki chose a position facing him, and ordered sake for them both.

Tsuzuki stifled his annoyance at not being consulted. Muraki was footing the bill - one that would come to at least 40,000 yen for the meal alone. Was it any surprise he rejected the gifts? He was spending several times their value on their evening together.

Tsuzuki felt the heavy weight of the bracelet in his pocket, and his spirits sinking with it. He could never hope to meet Muraki's flamboyant tastes.

"This is your first proper shippoku, ne? I expect a person of your status has only tasted the mini-shippoku offered by mediocre restaurants."

Tsuzuki's eyes flashed, but he didn't deny it.

He remembered eating mini-shippoku when he first met Hisoka. He had decided to spend more than his allowance to welcome his newest partner, and the meal ended in a noisy fight and Hisoka passing out. From such an inauspicious beginning, they had forged a solid working partnership. Hisoka enjoyed the challenges and thrived on his responsibilities as a Shinigami.

Tsuzuki enjoyed teasing him to the point of being a nuisance - someone had to remind Hisoka there was more to the afterlife than work. But inside he was proud of his serious partner. Hisoka was maturing in character - less sullen and stubborn, more willing to listen and learn. With Tatsumi's training, he would grow in spiritual power.

Even the curse marks Muraki had drawn on his flesh remained dim - a sign that Hisoka's spiritual power was growing in strength to overcome the curse...

Or Muraki's power was waning.

Tsuzuki eyed Muraki discreetly from across the table. His black jacket combined with the rich hues of the room drained his pale complexion of colour, making him appear more ghost than human. Yet his shoulders filled out the tuxedo well, and the severe lines of the suit drew attention to his muscular physique.

"A toast, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki held up his sake cup. "May we both feast well tonight."

Tsuzuki flushed, but lifted his chin in defiant challenge along with his cup. "I intend to. It would be rude of me to let your generosity go to waste."

Over the rim of his cup, Muraki's gaze glittered with restless hunger.

The first course was clear fish soup. It was followed by an array of small dishes served on the rotating tabletop. There was steamed bream; a selection of tuna, salmon, kingfish and octopus sashimi garnished with pickled ginger, shredded daikon and seaweed; shrimp and pork dumplings topped with crab roe; slices of barbecued pork arranged like fallen domino pieces in a circle; a clay hotpot with stewed pork and vegetables; crispy salted tofu with vegetables; nanbanzuke-style tuna deep fried and served with wasabi mayonnaise; black soybeans simmered in soy sauce; stir-fried dried fish; herring roe...

The number of dishes jostling for room blurred before Tsuzuki's eyes. The aroma made his stomach rumble and his mouth water.

"Nagasaki has a unique place in Japanese history - for the past four centuries, it was the gateway for trade and diplomacy. Even when Japan chose to close all seaports in a futile attempt to halt the onslaught of foreign influence, they left Nagasaki open as the single designated seaport for trade. The Chinese and European influence extended to the shippoku dishes that are unique to this city."

So much food. For Tsuzuki, a banquet like this was the stuff of dreams. When he lay in the semi-conscious twilight between life and death waiting for the end, he would fantasise about a meal like this to ease the hunger pangs.

Muraki began to serve himself, but stopped when he noticed Tsuzuki's stillness. "What is wrong? Does the food not please you?"

Tsuzuki shook his head. This formal dinner in opulent surroundings brought back memories of another dinner. "I just wondered...do you make a habit of eating at places that are associated with brothels? There was the one in Kyoto, and again here. Did you frequent this place before when you wanted a warm body for the night?"

"Tsuzuki-san," Muraki chided, "this has been a fine dining restaurant for almost a decade."

The hostesses had left the room - they were free to speak plainly. "So how did you find it? Did you notice it on your way to one of the other nearby brothels? Shianbashi means 'rumination bridge.' Visitors suffered a guilty conscience as they walked over the bridge leading to this area."

"Really? I never knew." Muraki's lips twisted in a wry smile. "How quaint. I assure you, I only learned about this restaurant's history from tourist guides. Where is this bridge you speak of?"

Tsuzuki took a selection of vegetables and fish. "It's all in the past. The bridge is gone and no one thinks twice about coming here now."

"I see." Muraki mused on this while he ate. "So what makes you think I spend all my free time in brothels? Do you believe I am incapable of controlling my baser appetites?"

Tsuzuki nodded as he bit into the nanbanzuke fish. Crisp and tangy with a hint of sweetness. Delicious.

"Hmm." Muraki looked miffed. "I must work hard to redeem my tarnished reputation."

"It's more than tarnished." Tsuzuki took an octopus sashimi with pickled ginger, and dipped it in soy sauce.

"A trifle dented," Muraki conceded.

"Smashed." Tsuzuki bit into the sashimi - delicious. He hadn't eaten octopus this good in ages. "Rusted with holes. Well and truly beyond repair. Not even suitable for scrap metal."

Muraki frowned. When Tsuzuki tried to take a second one, he swung the tabletop around.

"Hey! I haven't finished with that!"

"You have now." With a cheerful smirk, Muraki helped himself.

Tsuzuki saw red...until he remembered that losing his temper would give Muraki the advantage. There was nothing to be gained in hurling a tantrum over minor breaches of etiquette. Muraki enjoyed baiting him for his own amusement. Tsuzuki was determined not to let him have that satisfaction.

Besides, Muraki was paying for the meal - he deserved first claim to the food. There were many other dishes to sample.

So Tsuzuki went back to eating. The food was mouth-watering; the servings generous. The company was aggravating, but not enough to diminish his appetite. For several minutes, the only sound was the occasional click of chopsticks.

"I am extremely fortunate to have the master of Kokakurou as a friend - each time I visit Kyoto, he gives me shelter and access to the excellent services provided by his establishment. It would be ungracious for me to refuse his hospitality, ne? Nevertheless, I am not a frequent brothel client. Much as I enjoy the delights of obliging feminine company, regular visits would be a serious drain on one's bank balance. There are more productive ways to spend one's money."

"Like penthouse apartments and Ferrari cars?"

Muraki grinned. "Exactly. Some might regard them as examples of gross self-indulgence, but they also serve as valuable assets - which is more than can be said for brothel fees." He eyed Tsuzuki with amused curiosity. "Have you ever utilised the services of a prostitute?"

"No." Tsuzuki took a serving of the hotpot. "I have no interest in such things."

"Why not? I know you cannot afford their services, but surely if money was no object--"

"I don't want to pay for sex. Prostitution is demeaning to everyone involved - it treats women as objects and turns sex into a cold-blooded business transaction."

"What of it? Does it disturb you to pay for food or drink?"

"No, but that's different--"

"Not at all. Lust is a physical appetite like hunger or thirst, instilled into all living things to ensure survival of the species. Humans have wrapped it in elaborate ritual and invested it with emotional significance to conceal the baseness at the heart of physical desire."

Tsuzuki finished his mouthful of food, while his mind worked on a suitable reply. "If you're talking about lust, I take your point. I'm sure your experience there is greater than mine."

"Why, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki looked insufferably pleased. "I do believe you are becoming more rational the more time you spend in my company."

"But where's the spontaneity? Where's the thrill of flirtation and seduction - the anticipation of the chase?" Tsuzuki put down his chopsticks. "I can't imagine how a night with a prostitute, even the most skilled and beautiful, can ever match the excitement of being with someone who is as turned on by you as you are by them. All the money in the world can't buy you that kind of chemistry." He looked Muraki in the eye, daring him to disagree. "Rewarding sex does more than fill a physical need - it satisfies the soul and stimulates the mind."

"What do you know?" Muraki sneered. "Have you experienced this 'rewarding sex' you praise so highly? How can it be fulfilling if you remain crippled by anorgasmia?"

Tsuzuki flushed. "I'm not talking about me! I was speaking generally. There's more to sex than getting off--"

"I suppose you have to believe that in view of your pitiful affliction." Muraki snickered. "But to any reasonable person with an intact sexual response, sex without orgasm is a waste of time and effort. Sex is first and foremost a physical act driven by biological imperative. The spiritual and intellectual aspects are merely constructs that facilitate the underlying physiological response."

"So what does that say about you and your libido? When you raped Hisoka - were you at the mercy of your 'biology'? When you come to me insisting you must 'feed' - are you simply a dog in heat?"

Muraki's eyes flashed. "Tsuzuki-san..."

"You shouldn't worry about being human." Tsuzuki leaned forward, his hands clenched in fists. "Your problems are a lot more fundamental than that. Judging by your behaviour towards others, you're no better than an animal!"

"Silence," Muraki hissed. "You speak out of virtuous ignorance, and spout opinion on subjects you know next to nothing about." He jabbed at the last dumpling. "Spare me your sentimental platitudes - I have no use for them."

"Listen to me!" Tsuzuki whirled the tabletop around. "Someone has to tell you the truth about yourself!"

"You of all people are in no position to lecture me about 'truth' - unless you wish to enlighten me on how you've avoided the truth about yourself for close to a century."

Tsuzuki seized the dumpling and devoured it in one bite. A petty victory, but it served to keep in check the insults he longed to let loose. A verbal slanging match would achieve nothing. He already knew talking to Muraki was an exercise in futility and frustration...especially when he threw barbed reminders of Tsuzuki's own past. In Kyoto, such hints were enough to send him into frozen shock, for he had always believed his secret safe with Chief Konoe and the senior bureaucrats in EnmaCho.

Thanks to Muraki's obsessive pursuit and attentions, he knew better now.

He forced down the shadowy spectres of guilt and shame - he wouldn't let them win again. He didn't want a repeat of the events that took place in Kyoto. He wouldn't relinquish his soul and hurt others like that again. He needed to be strong.

The past was the past. Guilt and shame were useless emotions, Muraki once told him. Maybe he had a point.

Across the table, Muraki waited in anticipation for Tsuzuki's rejoinder. When none was forthcoming, he shrugged and returned to his own meal.

Left to his own thoughts, Tsuzuki ate in subdued silence.

Sex as a function of biology. So where did that leave their encounters? The frenzied way they came together - was that typical of how prostitutes acted with their clients? Tsuzuki didn't think so, but what did he know? Muraki came to him to slake his lust and desire for power. The urgent pleas and lavish praise, the bites and scratches, the passion so fierce it melted his bones and willpower...all driven purely by a desire to achieve a biological objective.

Muraki once even compared him to a prostitute - this was one truth he had never tried to conceal.

Tsuzuki kept eating. Pick pieces from dish, return to bowl, bring food to mouth. His stomach still ached.

A hostess entered to take away plates, and pour tea and sake. "Is everything satisfactory?"

"It's wonderful!" Tsuzuki beamed at her. "There's so many tasty dishes - I can't decide on a favourite."

She smiled back. "Thank you. Please eat more until you can make up your mind."

"Give my compliments to the chef for an excellent dinner. My only regret is that such a fine shippoku is not available in Tokyo."

"Thank you, sensei. Your guests are here. Do you wish me to bring them in after dessert?"

"Let's not keep them waiting. Please bring them in with dessert."

The hostess bowed and left them.

"What's she talking about?"

"I took the liberty of organising some after-dinner entertainment." Muraki sipped his sake. "They come highly recommended as being most gifted in their profession."

"Oh. You didn't have to do that." Did Muraki have money to burn? Hiring entertainers must have cost a fortune. "I'm not here to be entertained. I'm on a case--"

"Even so, you need time to relax and unwind, ne? Earlier you insisted that an encounter with a prostitute could never be as satisfying as being with someone with whom you share..." He waved his cup in mid-air as he searched for the word. "...'chemistry.' Is that correct?"

Tsuzuki's brows knitted together. He sensed a trap. "Yes."

"Good. Very good." Muraki drained the rest of his sake cup and put it down with a decisive knock. "Let's put your hypothesis to the test."

"What?"

The hostess returned with a tray of umewan soup, a rice broth flavoured with sweet red beans and salted sakura blossoms. After serving them, she slid open a door situated at the other end of the room. "I hope you have an enjoyable evening."

Tsuzuki's spoon fell into his bowl, splashing soup on the table.

Piercing green eyes pinned him to the spot. Chestnut brown hair cut in a feathery bob framed a pale triangular face.

Tsuzuki couldn't move. It couldn't be. His spiritual sense should have detected something...anything. How the hell was he going to explain himself?

"Hi...Hisoka?" It came out as a tiny squeak.

"Tsuzuki-san," Muraki drawled, "your eyes must be playing tricks on you. Allow me to introduce the beautiful ladies who will be your companions for this evening. First we have Kaneko."

Tsuzuki's jaw dropped. A female?

Kaneko bowed and lowered her gaze. Dressed in a figure-hugging sheath of emerald green, she glided into the room. Her body was willow-slim like a boy's except for the small curves of breasts and hips.

Tsuzuki was dizzy with relief. Not Hisoka - just a girl who looked a lot like him. He cast Muraki an accusatory glare; Muraki smiled indulgently in return, the picture of innocence.

Kaneko took her place by Tsuzuki's side. The top of her head was a little above Tsuzuki's shoulder, the same height as Hisoka. Up close, Tsuzuki realised she lacked Hisoka's lean muscularity around the shoulders and upper arms. Her jaw was less prominent too, giving her features a waifish look that accentuated her large eyes.

"Good evening, Tsuzuki-san." Her voice was light and musical. Her mobile lips curved into a shy smile.

No, not Hisoka - Tsuzuki couldn't remember a time when Hisoka smiled with such unaffected sweetness.

"Good evening...ah, Kaneko." Tsuzuki laughed to cover his embarrassment. He knew it was rude, but he couldn't help staring. Her resemblance to Hisoka was uncanny. Could she be a cousin? "You know, you look a lot like someone I know--"

Muraki cleared his throat. "Next, we have Maruyama."

A statuesque brunette entered the room. Dressed in a velvet gown of royal blue, she moved with the pliancy of a reed. Her hair was tied in a chignon, drawing attention to her high cheekbones, narrow face and long swan-like neck. She carried herself with a serene self-possession that left Tsuzuki awe-struck.

Maruyama took her place by Tsuzuki's other side. In kneeling position, the top of her chignon made her taller than him. "Good evening, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki bowed, deeply embarrassed. He wasn't accustomed to being in close proximity to strange beautiful women. "Would you like something to drink...either of you? We have tea and sake--"

"We are here to serve you." Her low voice held a warm huskiness that caressed the ear. She picked up the sake bottle. "Would you like more?"

Tsuzuki held out his cup.

"Last but not least," Muraki said, "we have Nanami."

Nanami was tall like Maruyama, but it was there the similarity ended. Nanami's long wavy blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders as she bounded into the room. She wore a halter-neck dress of gold chiffon with a V-neckline revealing a hint of cleavage, and a skirt that fell to her knees to show off shapely calves and ankles.

"Hello Tsuzuki-san!" She knelt down with a flourish next to Kaneko. "It's good to meet you! Did you enjoy your meal? On, you must eat more - you haven't touched your soup!"

Kaneko picked up the bowl and spoon. "Let me feed you, Tsuzuki-san."

"No, you don't have to!" Tsuzuki laughed. "That's really kind of you, but I can do it myself."

"But I want to do it," Kaneko insisted, her eyes wide. She lowered her gaze, hurt by his rebuff.

"Oh." Injuring her feelings was the last thing he intended. "Well, if you really want to..."

"I do."

"Okay then." He obediently accepted the mouthful of soup.

"Let me massage your shoulders, Tsuzuki-san." Maruyama knelt behind Tsuzuki. Her slender hands kneaded the muscles of his neck and shoulders with surprising strength. Her thumbs moved in firm circles along his upper spine, soothing tight muscles Tsuzuki didn't know he had. When Tsuzuki stiffened at a sore spot, she eased her touch. "You accumulate tension here. You must work very hard."

Tsuzuki flushed. "No, not really. My colleagues often complain I don't work hard enough."

"Look at the clothes he is wearing! How can he unwind with that stiff collar and tie?" Nanami lunged for Tsuzuki's throat. "Let me help you remove that!"

"Hey! I can do it on my own!"

"Don't struggle!" Nanami giggled. "Help me, Kaneko. You can feed him afterwards!"

Across the table, Muraki observed Tsuzuki in silence. His soup lay untouched.

"Stop that! Hey! That tickles! If you'd just give me some room..." Holding off two pairs of hands proved impossible. Within seconds, his tie and the top two buttons of his creased shirt were undone.

"There, that's better!" Nanami flicked her hair over her shoulders and giggled again. "Now why don't you stretch your legs - your feet will get pins and needles if you kneel too long!"

Kaneko held up another spoonful of soup. "Here, Tsuzuki-san. You haven't finished dessert yet."

"Your muscles are still tense, Tsuzuki-san." Maruyama's thumbs worked magic as she moved up his neck to the base of his skull. "Rest your head against me - that's the best way to relax."

Tsuzuki pinched himself to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Flattered by their attention, his mouth full of delicious soup, and his neck and shoulders dissolving into putty, he let them guide him into a semi-reclining position on the cushions. Nanami pulled off his socks and began to massage his feet with capable hands. Maruyama gave him a soothing scalp massage while his head was propped up by cushions. Kaneko knelt by his side, eager to feed him more soup.

He looked Muraki's way to find him quietly sipping his soup alone. "What...what's the meaning of this?"

"Meaning?" Muraki lifted one brow. "There is no meaning tonight - merely the indulgence of one's senses in the simple pleasures of the flesh."

"But...what about you? Why aren't they--"

"Our guests are here to entertain you, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki smiled merrily, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you for your consideration, but there's no need to concern yourself on my behalf."

"Please have more soup, Tsuzuki-san." Kaneko held out the spoon again.

Tsuzuki knew something wasn't right. But the soup was delicious. Maruyama's fingers circling his temples felt so wonderfully relaxing. And Nanami's fingers digging gently into the soles of his feet were a revelation - he never knew feet could be the source of such blissful delight. His initial embarrassment crumbled into whole-hearted enjoyment. He couldn't resist their expertise or his own sensual nature.

Maruyama's hands moved to his chest, massaging his upper torso with firm flowing strokes. Tsuzuki flushed - as she leaned over him, he was treated to a close-up view of her generous bustline. Hastily he looked away.

"More soup, Tsuzuki-san?" Kaneko smiled warmly. "You've nearly finished."

She was so cute. She reminded him of the boy Hijiri - always happy and cheerful, even when his life was endangered by Saagatanus. Maybe she was related to him instead. "Sure. It's delicious."

Kaneko blushed as if she'd made it herself. "Thank you."

Muraki lowered his gaze and rose to his feet. "Nicotine addiction is a terrible craving - it refuses to observe the social propriety of mealtimes. Excuse me while I go outside for a short while. The last thing I wish to do is subject everyone here to the dangers of passive smoking."

Tsuzuki turned, remembering his presence. "How...how long will you be?"

"Long enough." Muraki looked over his shoulder, lips twisted in a mocking smile. "Enjoy yourself in my absence, ne?"

"Hey, wait! Where are you going?"

Too late - Muraki had already slid the door shut behind him.

Maruyama pulled him down on the cushions. "No wonder your muscles are so tense, Tsuzuki-san. If you remain this agitated, you will undo the effects of my massage."

"You don't understand! He's the reason I'm here - I can't let him get away!" He tried to push her hands away.

"Don't you like us?" Kaneko asked. Her eyes glistened as she blinked at him.

"Yes! No! I mean...it's not that I don't like you - I do very much but--"

"Let's see if Tsuzuki-san has ticklish feet!" Nanami cried.

"Hey! Stop! Enough!" Tsuzuki's chest heaved with involuntary laughter. "Stop that!" He kicked out, narrowly missing her head. "Don't do that!"

"He's a stallion of untamed spirit!" She elbowed the serious Kaneko in the ribs. "Do you want to ride him first? Make sure you hold on tight or else he'll throw you off!"

Tsuzuki clutched his sides as he caught his breath. Who were these crazy women? Whatever Muraki intended by inviting them here, this wasn't his idea of entertainment.

"Nanami, stop being so irresponsible," Maruyama scolded. "You are only making him upset." She caressed Tsuzuki's hair with gentle fingers. "Rest your head on my lap, Tsuzuki-san. Let me massage your shoulders again."

Tsuzuki shook his head. "That's all right. You've given me a great massage already." He combed his fingers through his disordered hair as he sat up. "You've been great - you all have. But I need to see what Muraki is up to."

"Do you like his company more than ours?" Kaneko asked sadly.

"No! He's terrible company. We argue all the time. But he has a reputation for getting in trouble, which is why I need to keep a close eye on him." He patted her shoulder; the bare skin was soft as velvet. "I'll find him and bring him back--"

"Tsuzuki-san is kinky!" Nanami clapped her hands in delight. "Do you want him to watch? Some men are turned on when they perform for their friends."

"Perform? Perform what?"

Nanami burst into giggles, her blonde hair trembling about her.

Maruyama gently kneaded his shoulders again. "Tsuzuki-san, I'm sure he will be back soon." Her fingers slid beneath his collar to caress the nape of his neck. "Few men would offer a friend such privacy under these circumstances. We should take advantage of the opportunity he has given us."

They were talking in riddles. Something about this situation felt wrong...but her touch felt very nice. "Ahh...what opportunity?"

Kaneko moved nearer and unbuttoned his shirt. "We want to be with you, Tsuzuki-san. We want to spend time with you."

Up close Tsuzuki noticed the thickness of her lashes. Her green eyes were so wide he could lose himself in their depths. Her rosebud lips, stained with lipstick, parted to reveal a small pink tongue.

She was beautiful...and extremely distracting. "Err...why?"

"We are here to please you, Tsuzuki-san." With her hair falling into her eyes, Kaneko looked like a sleepy child, but her alluring expression hinted at experience beyond her years.

Being a Shinigami entitled one to many powers, but immunity from temptation wasn't one of them.

Tsuzuki lowered his head. Her lips were cool, her mouth fresh and sweet. She offered no resistance when he pulled her close - her soft curves yielded easily against him, and her mouth accommodated his tentative exploration. Her hair was soft and fluffy between his fingers...

Just like Hisoka's.

Ruffling his partner's hair in jest was the only way he could appreciate the texture. Hisoka found such playful contact annoying, so he made sure not to do it too often.

But Kaneko welcomed his touch. She sighed and shivered in enjoyment.

Tsuzuki pulled away, unsettled by her eagerness. She wasn't Hisoka - imagining she could be a substitute only made him guilty. "Why are you doing this?"

She kissed his throat and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. Her dainty hands were cool against his skin.

Behind him, Maruyama pulled his shirt free from his shoulders. At his feet, Nanami giggled again and tugged at his trousers.

Tsuzuki watched, bewildered at their haste. Their touch was undeniably arousing. Kaneko was lovely - kissing her had been most pleasant. But he didn't know her. He didn't know any of them. Their eagerness made no sense. Women didn't normally throw themselves at him like this.

And where the hell was Muraki?

_But there are some things one can do with a woman one cannot do with a man..._

_Enjoy yourself in my absence, ne?_

Disgust surged within him. Their caresses made his skin crawl. He grabbed Kaneko's wrists.

"What is it?" Her wide-eyed stare was as guileless as a child's. Maybe she was - she didn't yet have the full curves of an adult woman. "You're...you're hurting me."

"Sorry." They were pawns unworthy of his anger. He eased his grip - he would save it for later. "Tell me how much my bastard of a 'friend' is paying you all for tonight."

* * *

The lighter refused to work. Each time Muraki flicked it, it spat sparks and went out. 

Lounging against the side of the Ferrari, Muraki's shoulders slumped beneath the fine material of his tuxedo jacket.

The grey cat stood on the soft-top roof, watching over his shoulder. Its iridescent grey eyes reflected the coloured neon lights from the main street.

"Perhaps Saagatanus drained it when he graced us with his presence." He placed it within his breast pocket, next to his penknife. His pistol rested in a shoulder holster under his left arm.

The cat meowed loudly.

"If you want it so badly, you have it. He gave it to you, ne?"

The feline hissed and clawed his jacket.

Muraki's attention was elsewhere. There was a commotion outside the restaurant: high-pitched voices, shrill laughter and the click-clack of high heels. Cloying sweet perfume reached his nostrils, followed by the whiff of another scent - the one he would always detect amid a thousand others, for it had been imprinted onto what remained of his soul, as well as his eye for anyone with the understanding to recognise it.

He walked to the corner, taking care to keep himself concealed in the shadows. The three women were leaving in a hurry.

The cat let out a plaintive meow, but he ignored it. He needed to follow them. He had waited long enough.

Muraki stepped out - only to be slammed against the wall.

"You bastard! You fucking bastard!"

The cloak of invisibility couldn't hide the fury in Tsuzuki's voice...or the grip on the lapels of his jacket.

Muraki managed a choked laugh - Tsuzuki's knuckles against his throat made it hard to breathe. "I don't talk...to poltergeists."

Tsuzuki's corporeal form materialised, alive and warm, his gaze blistering violet fire. "Manipulating others to do your dirty work - I knew you'd resort to such cowardly actions sooner or later!"

"No one was manipulated. Those women came to you of their own free will--"

"You liar! You bribed them!"

"I paid them for a service," Muraki corrected smoothly, "in the same way I paid for the restaurant bill." He tilted his head to one side, his gaze lingering on the traces of lipstick on Tsuzuki's jaw. "A service you enjoyed, ne?"

"I never asked for this! I don't want to be serviced like some prize bull at a cattle stud!"

"When I left you, you appeared to appreciate their attentions. Consider it a gift - the opportunity to savour one of the many life experiences denied to you." Muraki looked away for a moment. "How did you go?"

"It went nowhere! I threw them out! I reject your gift the same way you rejected mine! How do you like a taste of your own medicine, sensei?"

Muraki frowned, displeased. "You lie."

"Hah!" Tsuzuki let go and stepped back, gloating in triumph. "You weren't expecting that, were you? Do you take me for a fool? I know what your plan is!"

"But they carried your scent--"

"Oh, they tried, I'll give them that." Tsuzuki pulled his trenchcoat tighter over the rumpled shirt hanging out of his trousers.

"I see." Muraki's tone was flat. "It was blood, not essence. So you remain in your wretched state of perpetual frustration." He eyed Tsuzuki for a long moment. "Were you anxious in their presence? I went to considerable effort to choose women you would feel comfortable with. They were chosen especially for you based on physical features and personality to be similar to individuals you already knew."

"You mean...Kaneko and Hisoka...their looks..."

"The resemblance is striking, ne? You were most taken by her entrance. Of them all, I considered her the most likely to succeed."

"So you chose her...and the others too..." With a pair of glasses, Maruyama could have passed for a female Tatsumi. Nanami's looks and jovial manner were reminiscent of a hyperactive Watari. Each woman bore a resemblance to one of his Shoukanka friends. "You...you think I fantasise about making them all female? You...you..." The realisation sent Tsuzuki into a renewed frenzy of spluttering rage. "Why the hell are you bringing them into this? I don't think of them like that! They're not sex objects! They're my friends! Friends don't fuck each other, you idiot!"

"These women are not your friends." Muraki pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Their physical similarity was intended to settle your anxiety--"

"I don't want to fuck them!" Tsuzuki roared. He no longer cared who heard them. "I don't want to fuck anyone who looks like them!"

Muraki turned away, hands in pockets. "What about the secretary?"

"That's why, dammit! I lost him as a friend for decades! He froze me out for so long...we were barely on speaking terms..." Tsuzuki shook his head viciously. "Never again. I can't ever have that kind of relationship with them, ever! I can't bear to fail anyone else! I...I don't want to lose the only real friends I've ever had..." His voice cracked on the last syllable.

There it was. His greatest fear given voice - the reason he smiled when he was hurting inside; laughed when he wanted to cry; and maintained his guise of cheerful optimism even when a voice inside hissed at the futility of all his efforts.

One day they would know the truth. Maybe they did already. Everyone had been tiptoeing around him, doing their best to forget his disastrous psychological meltdown in Kyoto.

A cold gust of wind whipped through the alley. Tsuzuki's black trenchcoat flapped and flared around him. His black hair flew into his downswept gaze.

Muraki muttered something unintelligible.

"What?"

"You..." Muraki's voice was muffled. One hand was clasped over his mouth.

"What? What is it?"

Muraki's shoulders shook convulsively. A gasping sound came from his chest, repeating itself over and over as it increased in volume.

Tsuzuki grabbed his wrist. "You think this is funny?"

Muraki threw his head back. His entire body trembled as gales of crazed laughter left his lips. It echoed through the alley, rising and falling in pitch, carried by the wind to bounce off the buildings and swirl around them.

Tsuzuki wanted to block his ears. Listening to it go on and on filled him with a horrible sense of deja vu.

"Stop it!" He shook Muraki by the shoulders. "Stop laughing! What the hell is so funny?"

"The irony..." Muraki gasped between spasms, hunched forward. "Don't you see? If you can't be with friends...because you fear failure...and reject prostitutes...out of misplaced guilt...what is left?"

Tsuzuki looked at his bowed head. Muraki prided himself on his sexual skills - to hire these women was already an admission of personal defeat. Impossible not to feel a stirring of sympathy at his humiliation.

On the car roof the cat looked from one man to the other, tail twitching restlessly.

Muraki lifted his head, his lips curved in a grimace. "Tell me what to do, for I have no more schemes up my sleeve." His husky voice was pained, bereft of humour. "What is left?"

Tsuzuki didn't pull away when Muraki rested their foreheads together. Even in failure, Muraki remained a charismatic and compelling man. The warm breath against his face, the hint of cologne mingling with the sake on his breath - these were as familiar and welcome as the nails on his back, the possessive hands over his body, the feel of the cock sliding within him to break through his inhibitions and misgivings with its barrage of pleasure-pain...

Never before had he felt so close to heaven on earth.

Tsuzuki noticed the tell-tale smudge of exhaustion beneath his visible grey eye. This was the face of his nemesis...vulnerable, weakened, almost at his wits' end.

He wanted Muraki more than ever.

"You." He lifted his jaw until their lips touched. "You're left, ne?" Prickling heat trickled between his shoulder blades; a warning Tsuzuki chose to ignore.

Muraki withdrew, his hooded eyes drawn to Tsuzuki's mouth. "You said it was no use, and you were right. I can't match your endurance. We cannot continue like this."

Tsuzuki pulled him back, his heart pounding. "Let's try something...different." He swallowed hard, embarrassed but determined. "Just once--"

"No." Muraki shook him off and began to walk to the car. "I can't."

Tsuzuki followed him. "Whatever you've been through - it doesn't have to be like that! It feels so good when you do it to me." He flushed when Muraki glanced at him. "It's like...being pushed to my limits...vulnerable, yet powerful as well. It's more exhilarating than frightening. I feel like my body is truly mine, not a shell given to me by EnmaCho. You make me feel alive." He touched Muraki's arm when he fumbled for the car keys. "I want to show you the same pleasure. I want you to experience your body as an instrument of wonder and delight, not a source of misery. To be human is a gift--"

"A gift, you call it?" Muraki whirled around. "Then you can have it, for I want no part of it! I will never submit to another man again!"

"It's not submission!" At Muraki's sceptical look, he threw his arms up. "Starve then! See if I care!" The sizzling pain went down Tsuzuki's back, making him wince. He shut his eyes, but the soothing images refused to form in his racing mind. "No...not again..." He ripped off his trenchcoat and threw it in Muraki's astonished face. "You think I want all this power? You think I want my back aching like this?"

"Tsuzuki-san..." The sight of Tsuzuki stripping soothed Muraki's temper faster than a splash of water. "This is a public place."

"Shut up!" He tugged at his tie, tightening the knot in his haste. "You think I want this...this monster inside me?" In frustration he pulled up his shirt, and twisted one arm behind his back. The skin was smooth and unmarked - there was no rash or indentation or boil. "You're a doctor, aren't you? What's the cure for this?"

Muraki's lips tightened. "You must release the energy inside you."

"You keep saying that, but how? This only started when I met you." He doubled over in agony, clutching one shoulder. "It's Saaga's possession all over again. I thought I was free of it..."

The cat hissed and lashed its tail.

"Saagatanus?" Muraki spat the name out. "He is no more! You destroyed him with your own hand!"

"He said this was his mark...that I should be honoured to bear it..."

"That liar. Extinguishment is too lenient a punishment for such blasphemy." Muraki grabbed Tsuzuki by the shoulder. "Get up! Even a mere human knows how to stand upright!"

"Fuck off!" Tsuzuki twisted away. "You're the one responsible for everything! These spasms come on whenever I think of how much I want you! The water from my hands - when Saaga attacked and again in the hotel - I was thinking of you!"

"Me?" Muraki was taken aback. "You think of me?"

Tsuzuki held out his hands. Muraki turned them to the glare of the street light. Water trickled along the palmar creases of both hands.

"Do you mock me? Is this a test? All this time..." He grabbed Tsuzuki's wrists and pulled him close. "I gave willingly at first in the hope you would reciprocate. But all you do is flaunt your power with these childish tricks! Do you think me unworthy? Why won't you share?"

"I don't know how! Or why! You never explained anything..." Tsuzuki fell against Muraki's shoulder as a burst of excruciating pain paralysed him, twisting along his back. The parasite inside him was ripping his body apart...

Muraki roughly pushed him face down over the car roof. The cat scrambled off the roof in alarm. But Muraki didn't notice. He pulled up the back of Tsuzuki's shirt and bit into the shoulder until he drew blood.

Tsuzuki gasped and squirmed, but he didn't resist. His immortal shinigami body could endure much worse. The pain in his back was forgotten - the ferocity of Muraki's teeth lacerating his flesh penetrated the fog of pain like rays of brilliant sunlight.

"Must I eat you alive? Is this the only way I can feed?" He bit again and again along the ridge of one shoulder blade, and then the other. "Tear you apart from limb to limb like a wild animal?" He lapped the blood pooling in the lacerations. "I can act the monster - the savage you despise. If that is your wish--" With his tongue, he caught the trickling drops and licked them clean. "--it will be done."

"Better me," Tsuzuki whispered, "than those women."

Muraki went still. His hands tightened over Tsuzuki's upper arms.

"You told them to seduce me...you wanted each of them to take turns. You planned to feed on their energy, either by murder or curse - your typical modus operandi." Tsuzuki's quiet voice held a wealth of bitterness. "You paid them money, but they would have paid later with their lives."

Muraki chuckled. "You know me so well." His breath gusted over Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Does it disgust you? Or does it please you to know you can drive me to such depravity?" He put his arms around Tsuzuki's waist and pulled him close, indifferent to the blood smearing his jacket and shirt. "The idea of anyone else having you is abhorrent to me. But desperate times call for desperate measures." He rested his chin against Tsuzuki's shoulder. "Only the thought of what I would do to each of them later kept me sane. I'd pluck out their eyes, rip out the beating heart, suck the marrow from their very bones..." Muraki's voice shook with a volcanic rage that reverberated throughout his entire body. "...break open the pelvis and tear out the cradle of life and devour it whole...because you found them more worthy than me!"

The feline watched, ears flattened, cowering on the hood a safe distance away.

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe - Muraki's arms were so tight they squeezed the air from his lungs - but horror rooted him to the spot. Muraki needed to be humbled. His bloated egotism and pathological sense of entitlement was responsible for ruining many lives. But his crazed anguish left Tsuzuki horrified...and afraid. To want so fiercely only led to misery and madness.

Could Muraki's obsession with him truly be the reason for his unhinged state? If so, he may as well have cursed Muraki by his own hand. Muraki would never succeed in his quest, regardless of his influence with demons or undeniable sexual prowess.

As a shinigami, Tsuzuki knew his place. He was tenured to EnmaDaiOh. That was his penance. That was his fate.

"Welcome to my hell." Muraki breathed the words against Tsuzuki's throat. "To be near and yet so far... But nothing can be gained by repeating the mistakes of the past. Devouring you is not the answer - like the mythical Hydra of Greek legend, physical injury only accelerates your recuperative powers." He laughed bitterly. "He knew this, of course. He knew this all along. Maybe he is laughing at me now. Let him laugh, for I will never give up. I may be nothing but a mere mortal...too pitiful to consort with a God of Death...but I won't let him win!"

Hot wetness trickled down his neck - Tsuzuki couldn't tell if it was saliva, blood...or tears. His back was cleansed of the searing pain; only the tightening itch of healing flesh remained, and Muraki's near-suffocating embrace. Tentatively Tsuzuki touched the moisture. It wasn't thick like blood or sticky like saliva. He brought it to his lips - salty with an acrid aftertaste that burned his tongue.

Tsuzuki's heart sank. In the morning he had suspicions - tonight they were inescapable facts. No ordinary human could shed tears like this.

"Muraki." He awkwardly stroked the silver hair. "I...I'm the one who's unworthy. I'm not worthy of those women, my friends, my shikigami...anyone. All my life I've hurt people. I try to help...but I always screw up." He pulled the package from his pocket and tore it open on the car roof. "But I know this can help you. It's been blessed with the energy of Metal and Wind."

"It's not enough." Muraki's voice was muffled against his shoulder. "Only you can sustain me."

"But it will buy you time." He took out the mesh bracelet. "I can always ask Byakko to re-energise it--"

"A temporary solution at best. Elemental energy is not enough."

"You placed a Metal defensive ward on the buckles of my gloves - I easily counteracted it using a Fire attack fuda. You helped me create a Water attack twice: first in your apartment, then later against Saaga. So already you must be depleted in those two elements at the very least." He rubbed his cheek against Muraki's. "I want to help you, but I can't if you won't listen."

"I am yours. I must feed from you. Only you can nourish me."

Tsuzuki thought furiously - there had to be some way to change his mind. Appeal to his ego...

"Do you want Enma to win so easily?"

Muraki froze. The question hung between them in the silence.

"The real question is, Tsuzuki-san, do you?" Muraki stroked the healing skin with feather-light fingertips, then pulled the shirt down and straightened the material with the attention of a valet dressing his master.

"I was talking about you. You're the one with the grudge, not me." Tsuzuki turned around, the silver bracelet dangling between his fingers. "If you remain this stubborn, you may as well give up now."

Muraki stared at Tsuzuki, then at the bracelet. His gaze was hungry and intent, his cheek and jaw smeared with blood. Beneath his fringe, his false eye began to glow.

Tsuzuki held out the bracelet, "Wear this. It can restore the Metal and Wind energy within you. If not for yourself, then do it for me. Please."

Silently Muraki held out his wrist.

Tsuzuki's heart pounded double time. In the semi-darkness, his trembling fingers fumbled over the clasp - did the saleslady have so much trouble? After what felt like interminable minutes, it fell open. He looped it around Muraki's wrist, guided by the unnatural white light from the false eye.

_Lux. Lucifer._

Tsuzuki bit his lip. Just a title, he reminded himself. Titles could be revoked - they weren't fixed in stone. "There. It's done."

Muraki slipped it beneath the cuff of his shirt. "I wear this only because you command it. I am yours." His false eye dimmed. "Why are you sad? As you have said the word, so it is done."

"I'm not sad. I'm glad you're starting to follow my advice."

"But neither are you pleased." Muraki buttoned Tsuzuki's shirt for him. "Your empty smile cannot fool me."

"Never mind about me. Do you feel it working? You should be feeling stronger."

"A little." Muraki fixed Tsuzuki's tie, then used it as a leash to pull him into his arms. "Tell me - for I asked before in all seriousness - do _you_ want Enma to win?"

Tsuzuki bent his head. "I serve EnmaDaiOh. I'm not here to help you defeat him. I have an investigation--"

"Yes, yes. Of course." Muraki removed his glasses and tucked them in his jacket pocket. "So you come to conduct your investigation, and indulge your sexual appetite on the side."

Tsuzuki flushed.

Muraki smiled and nuzzled his nose. "I appreciate your patience with me. There are some uncharitable people who break off relationships after a less-than-fulfilling sexual encounter. Yet you have returned again and again, so willing to give me a second chance, and a third...even a fourth. Fifth if you count this morning--"

"Okay, enough! Don't rub it in."

"I can't help myself," Muraki's tone was indulgent and warm - the anger had receded as quickly as a summer storm. "Being near you is an intoxicating aphrodisiac." He began to unbuckle Tsuzuki's belt.

"What...hey! What are you doing?"

Muraki knelt before him and undid his trousers.

"You have the bracelet now. There's no need to do this!"

"Why not? Your body still desires me, ne?" He pulled down the briefs and brought out Tsuzuki's cock into the cool night air. Gently he nuzzled the crown with his lips. "I wear your bracelet - I am well and truly yours now. Let me do this for you."

A groan escaped Tsuzuki's mouth. His cock swelled to full hardness, all too eager to accept Muraki's invitation. Unencumbered by conscience, it twitched against Muraki's insistently stroking tongue, while the crown nudged the roof of his mouth.

Muraki twisted his head, adjusting the angle of entry. Gently he began to guide Tsuzuki deeper.

Rational protest fled Tsuzuki's mind. He watched his cock disappear between Muraki's lips, the silver head almost flush with his crotch. They were in a public place; there was the danger of someone seeing from the street; Muraki was getting grime and dirt on his trousers...

A million other reasons bombarded his mind at the wrongness of this. But what did it matter, when it felt so good?

When Muraki fucked him, he experienced the helpless vulnerability of being human. When Muraki sucked him off, he revelled in the adoring worship granted to a god.

That mouth that once hurled insults now embraced his entire cock in welcoming warm wetness. The sneering thin lips provided a perfect seal around his shaft. The hands that once clawed his back now cradled his crotch and balls.

It was a dream. Muraki kneeling before him in a dingy alley; the pleasure gifted to him by that talented mouth...it couldn't be happening.

Tsuzuki threw his head back, his lips parted. He clutched the car behind for support while his chest rose and fell with his gasping breaths. He was trapped with his arms resting on the car roof in a crucifix position - but instead of pain, Muraki inflicted pleasure of such intensity Tsuzuki felt he was losing a part of himself. Why had he resisted Muraki for so long? He couldn't remember - only a fool would have turned down something as wonderful as this. From his cock, restlessly twitching within the luxurious confines of Muraki's ravenously sucking mouth, the languor flowed along his nerves to engulf his entire body in its thrall.

The feline leapt up to the car roof and padded to Tsuzuki. It seated itself near his shoulder and peered down to watch Muraki at work.

Soft whimpers escaped from Tsuzuki's throat each time Muraki withdrew his mouth, an inarticulate plea for him to continue. And Muraki obeyed, pausing only to curl his tongue over the crown to catch the precome he sought, then drawing him deeper inside once again as reward. Silken lashes of tongue against the underside, the velvet warmth of inner cheek...the intimate suction filled Tsuzuki with such ecstatic pleasure he wanted to weep at the wonder of it.

Now accustomed to his size, Muraki took more of him in, guiding him over his tongue to the back of his throat. His breath was slow and even, a sigh of warm breath tickling his groin. With his eyes shut, and his throat muscles contracting around the head to milk him of his seed, he seemed blissfully oblivious to Tsuzuki's tortured ecstasy.

Muraki's expression was reverent. There was no other way to describe it. He was not disgusted or ashamed - his uninhibited enthusiasm revealed he found as much pleasure in giving as Tsuzuki did in receiving.

A wave of gratitude and tenderness swept over Tsuzuki. "Muraki..." he breathed. "Muraki...I..."

Muraki shifted the angle of Tsuzuki's cock. His mouth remained firmly around the shaft, his swallowing throat muscles worked without pause. He gazed up at Tsuzuki while he fellated him.

Tsuzuki watched his cock appear and disappear between Muraki's lips. Already flushed with passion, the sight made him red with embarrassment - but not enough to look away.

Muraki's false eye was clearly visible. With its unnatural diameter, it looked eerie - the only flaw marking his patrician features.

Tsuzuki was spellbound. Muraki's gaze imprisoned his own, just as his mouth trapped his willing body with pleasure. There was nothing else in the world that mattered - only the two of them caught up in this intimate communion, feeding, fucking...

_Feed me. Nourish me._

Muraki was crazy to think this would help him - a symptom of his desire transforming into delusion.

The false eye flared to life.

Tsuzuki let out a choked cry. Muraki's sucking was faster, more urgent.

Whatever power Muraki wielded, he was still mortal. His energy resources were easily depleted. EnmaDaiOh would crush him with the ease of an elephant squashing an ant. What they did together wouldn't make a difference.

This was between the two of them alone.

Tsuzuki thrust his hips forward each time Muraki withdrew, only to be trapped against the car when Muraki swallowed him down and milked him once more.

The car began to rock. The cat looked up, blinking in surprise.

No insults or cruel laughter passed Muraki's lips - only his cock gliding in and out.

This was how it should be. He was fucking Muraki's talented mouth...and it felt exhilarating. His entire body was taut as a string, vibrating in time to this voluptuous indulgence. His thighs trembled as well - too weak to support his weight, they merely propped him against the car so he didn't make a complete fool of himself by sliding to the ground. The pleasure spiralled through him, lifting him higher and higher.

White light blazed from the false eye. It blinded Tsuzuki with its brilliance.

_Come for me..._

The world tilted on its axis. For an instant, Tsuzuki was no longer in his own body. Cock and precome filled his mouth. He gulped down the salty-bitter liquid as if his life depended on it, while his knees rested against the hard pavement. White light enveloped him, shining down from above...

A hallucination? A premonition?

Climax tore through his body - bringing him back to reality, only to fling him into oblivion. A kaleidoscope of sensations blasted through him - an explosion that sent shockwaves through his body, a rush of liquid heat melting muscle and bone, searing his mind of reason and thought. No longer a shinigami, he was a being of sensation alone, tossed to and fro in the turbulent waves of orgasm.

Tsuzuki let out a harsh guttural cry. His entire body quivered like a leaf.

Muraki clung to him, gulping everything down, his throat muscles working greedily like a feeding calf. A deep growl rumbled in his chest. He refused to let go when the flow proved too much and liquid spilled from his lips.

The cat rubbed itself against Tsuzuki's cheek and purred loudly.

Tsuzuki opened his eyes. A strip of night sky was visible between the silhouettes of the surrounding buildings. The stars twinkled, whiter and brighter than he had ever seen them before. The sky was a backdrop of deep indigo velvet stretching into the vastness of space...

And he was lounging against the car with his trousers around his knees.

Muraki remained kneeling at Tsuzuki's feet, head bowed. His hands gripped Tsuzuki's thighs so hard his nails left indentations in his flesh.

"Muraki? Are you...are you all right?"

He nodded and knelt back on his haunches, eyes closed. His fingers eased its grip.

The silence unnerved Tsuzuki. "That's...good." He began to pull up his trousers. "We don't have to do this anymore, right? I mean, you got what you wanted--"

"I cheated." Muraki stood up and dusted his trousers off. His expression was grave, his false eye dim. "I did not achieve this by myself. Your bracelet made it possible."

"The bracelet is to give you the energy you're losing from the... from your covenant. It's for you, not me."

Muraki twisted the jewellery around his wrist, then straightened his cuffs. "If I am to succeed or fail, it will be by my own efforts. I won't accept interference--"

"Or assistance, by the sounds of it. You're the most stubborn person I know. You succeeded, idiot!" Tsuzuki flushed when Muraki lifted an eyebrow. "I just - we just...you got what you wanted! And nothing's changed, has it? I'm the same as before - you're as insane as ever. I told you this idea of me feeding you was crazy to begin with!"

"It wasn't crazy - it was very good." Muraki leaned forward to nuzzle Tsuzuki's forehead. "But next time I must do it by my own efforts."

The cat meowed at him and lashed its tail.

Muraki turned. On the main street, a hulking black limousine cruised past them.

"What is it?" Tsuzuki asked. Even with his limited knowledge of cars, he knew it was a prestige vehicle.

"A Toyota Century. The vehicle of choice for government officials...and the yakuza." Muraki combed his hair behind one ear and smiled. "You once offered to use your spell for transportation. May I take you up on that generous offer now?"

Yakuza. The reason Muraki had brandished the gun...

"What have you done now? Are you in trouble?"

"Nothing of the kind." Muraki put his arm around Tsuzuki's waist. "I merely wish to continue our evening in a more intimate setting. We still have many more things to do together, ne?"

Tsuzuki flushed. He knew Muraki was sidestepping the issue, but neither did he want a violent confrontation with gangsters. "Okay. Your cat and car as well?"

"Yes, thank you." Muraki nuzzled his ear. "So much more to kiss...and fondle...and bite...and suck..."

The rest of his words were lost to the wind blowing through the alley, filling the empty space they left behind. It tossed the handful of bloody black feathers along the bitumen until they fell into the filthy gutter.


	17. Baptism

Thanks to Gengkotsuya and Amethyst Hunter for their help. A big thanks to those who've posted reviews and comments - I appreciate your suggestions and encouragement very much! It gets harder to keep track of a big story, especially one as long as this, so I'm grateful for any opinions and advice. Like a weed, the story just keeps growing and growing...

Please visit my site for a couple of lovely artworks: Carolinegr has done a summery colour crayon artwork of Muraki and his cat; Mikata Lian has done an erotic pencil sketch of Muraki, Tsuzuki and the cat.

* * *

In the Hall of Candles, the home of the mysterious Hakushaku, the housekeeping was never finished. 

As butler, valet, messenger and all-round dogsbody, Watson had the onerous task of ensuring the premises were in pristine condition. Despite visitors seldom venturing on this hallowed ground, Hakushaku insisted that every room be ready for use at a moment's notice. So each hallway, foyer and reception area had to be swept and vacuumed; rooms filled with opulent furnishings needed to be dusted and aired; heavy curtains pushed aside to let in the sunlight and windows opened to circulate the air.

The candle room required the most attention of all. The size of a ballroom, this windowless room housed the majority of candles in the mansion. Millions of white tapered candles were mounted on wall holders; hung from massive chandeliers; and were scattered on the floor, over the elaborate sweeping staircase, and tucked in the recessed alcoves beneath the ceiling. The new candles were tall and burned brightly, their sides unmarked by dripping wax, their wicks short and neat. The oldest candles were a puddle of wax, their blackened wicks holding the tiniest glow of life.

Watson spent hours in this room every day scraping melted wax from the marble floor. He never touched the candles themselves. Even when candles were snuffed out, he left them as they were for his master to find in the morning. Only Hakushaku was allowed to interfere with the candles. Depending on his whim, he could blow out a brilliant flame or tend the wick of a feeble ember.

Tonight Hakushaku was engrossed in the latest story whipped up by the library caretaker. Alone in the candle room, dressed in a frilly cap and matching apron, Watson quietly scrubbed the wax from the floor. By candlelight his skull-like head was given a warm ambient glow, softening the ugliness of crooked teeth and the crumbling tissue covering one eyesocket.

He was the only one present to witness a most unusual event.

At the far end of the room, a plume of flame erupted several feet high to lick the ceiling, as bright as a blowtorch. It came from a single candle at the far end of the room. All the candles flickered and dimmed as one, as if this single flame deprived the entire room of life-giving oxygen. From behind his trembling hands, Watson saw the colour - brilliant white with a centre of deep violet.

He stumbled to his feet and ran for help.

He found Hakushaku lounging in the library. His white mask hovered over a book clasped between wrist-length white gloves.

"Hakushaku-sama..." he croaked between gasps.

"Watson?" The book lowered a fraction. "I hope this is important. I gave orders not to be disturbed."

Watson bowed. "Forgive me...but one of the candles...there's a fire..."

The book snapped shut and swooped down to the chair. "Show me."

They entered down the staircase; Hakushaku silent except for the brush of his glove against the bannister, Watson hopping down one step at a time to keep up with him.

The brilliant flame was gone. Warm light from the millions of candles illuminated the room.

"But I saw it, Hakushaku-sama."

"Which one was it?"

Watson pointed at the mantelpiece. "Somewhere here, Hakushaku-sama."

Hakushaku inspected the candles on the mantelpiece. His mask reflected the firelight, giving it a cast of burnished gold. "Watson, you disturbed me at a most inopportune time. I was reading a most exciting scene in my latest novel."

"Forgive me, Hakushaku-sama."

"An excellent swashbuckling seafaring adventure no less. Having been rescued from an island of man-eating savages, the beautiful heroine was about to show her gratitude to the dashing and handsome pirate in the privacy of his quarters." Hakushaku's sigh made the flames flicker a little. "So grateful she was, too."

Watson kept a tactful silence.

"Watson, it would annoy me a great deal if I were summoned here for a trivial matter. You do understand, don't you?"

Watson wished he could make himself smaller than he already was. "Yes, Hakushaku-sama."

"Very good. You have served me well in the past..." Hakushaku's mask moved closer to the mantelpiece. "And I see you continue to do so." His gloved hands reached out to pick up a candle - a little wider than the rest and only an inch high. A pool of melted wax surrounded the thin violet-white flame burning in the centre. "Is this it?"

"Yes, Hakushaku-sama! The same colour, but the flame was bigger, much bigger."

"I believe you, Watson. A most unusual and beautiful colour, ne? I never thought I'd see the day." Hakushaku clicked his tongue in disapproval as he brought it to eye level. "Look at it. The flame is tunnelling through the middle instead of burning out to the edges. It will drown in its wax if it keeps this up. Silly child."

"What should we do, Hakushaku-sama?"

"Let us find another place for it. I'm not sure it will last longer in spite of our efforts, but a different environment may prolong the burn time. Then you must convey an urgent message to EnmaDaiOh."

"I must go tonight, Hakushaku-sama? DaiOh-sama will be resting at this hour--"

"All the more reason to annoy him," Hakushaku replied breezily. "He will want to be informed of this new development."

With a permanent grimace on his face, Watson couldn't look unhappier than he felt at the prospect of visiting EnmaCho's most securely fortified area in the dead of night.

* * *

In the lounge room of Muraki's apartment, Tsuzuki faced a dilemma of his own. "Muraki...enough." 

"Tsuzuki-san..."

"You got what you wanted."

"Never enough. I have years of deprivation to make up for, ne? Years...and years..."

Hot lips against his throat tickled and burned. Tsuzuki gritted his teeth against the thrill of pleasure, and damned himself for being so receptive to Muraki's touch. He'd only come minutes ago, yet his body stirred with arousal once more.

"Stop!" Tsuzuki yanked at Muraki's hair. "You pervert...maniac..."

"So?" Muraki shoved him against the wall and kissed him.

Tsuzuki clenched his jaw shut. Sharp teeth bit his lips until they parted. Muraki's tongue slithered inside his mouth, curled against his palate and tongue. Repulsed, Tsuzuki shook his head.

Muraki growled. He grasped Tsuzuki's head so he couldn't move away and angled his jaw up to deepen the kiss.

Tsuzuki wanted to gag. With his jaw forced apart, he couldn't bite Muraki back. He tried to bar entry with his tongue instead, but it was a losing battle. The insistent wet caress of Muraki's tongue disgusted him yet made him shiver - he could taste the metallic flavour of blood mixed with the musky bitterness of his own semen.

Saliva filled his mouth. The taste was changing during their kiss. The bitterness dissolved into a tantalising sweetness. Muraki's tongue continued to slide against his, encouraging him to reciprocate. Tsuzuki swallowed once, then a second time. The sweetness lingered on the back of his tongue, rich and heady like fine liqueur. Tentatively he caressed Muraki's tongue with his own, curious in spite of himself.

"Now you understand. No wonder demons and shikigami and humans alike are attracted to you." Muraki's breathing was ragged as he kissed Tsuzuki's forehead. "Your body and blood are truly delicious."

Tsuzuki licked his lips, a little dazed himself. "Is that what I taste like?"

Muraki nodded. "You are the source of the richest nectar, the last remaining fruit in this barren wasteland." He lowered his head to nuzzle Tsuzuki's ear. "There is much pleasure to be found in release - especially for one who has gone without for so long. Now we must capitalise on this breakthrough. For so long I have waited--"

"No." Tsuzuki put some space between them. "We need to talk. The yakuza, your covenant - tell me what's going on."

"The seal is cracking - there is no turning back. We will tear off the blindfold and cast away the chains. You cannot hide any longer." He tugged at the silver bracelet as if it chafed him. "I will prove my worthiness this time."

"Leave it on." Tsuzuki grasped his wrist, pressing the cold metal into his flesh. "You need the bracelet's Metal energy...and Water too..." He pushed past Muraki and stumbled to the coffee table. The motion-sensitive lights lit up the room, making him blink.

On the floor, the cat scrabbled with the lighter. When it skidded under the table, it dived after it.

Tsuzuki picked up the box with the mother-of-pearl cufflinks. "Put these on."

Muraki frowned at it.

Tsuzuki tore the wrapping off. "The bracelet isn't enough. You're losing Water and Metal energy--"

"Wrong," Muraki said flatly. He twisted the bracelet, uneasy with its weight. "You summoned Water on your own. All I did was nourish the Water within you to remind you of the legacy you have long forgotten."

Muraki's subdued tone made Tsuzuki uneasy. "But the elements I work best with are Fire and Earth. I chose them when I began training to be a shinigami. Water isn't one of my elements."

"Who told you such a lie?"

"It's not a lie. I've never undergone training in using Water."

Muraki shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and draped it over the back of the sofa. "Do you not have Water type shikigami under your command? Are you not compatible with shikigami from all four elements?" He removed his shoulder holster then loosened his bow tie.

"Well, yes...but that's because I befriended them first. To summon a shikigami you need more than energy compatibility. So many people fall into the trap of thinking they must defeat a shikigami in battle to prove their strength. But shikigami have feelings. You have to forge a bond, establish mutual trust with them. It's all about building a friendship."

"A friendship?" Muraki drawled mockingly. "How nice."

"Say what you like. It's worked for me." Tsuzuki pulled out the cufflinks. "Here. I want you to wear these."

Muraki picked them up and casually threw them in the cat's direction. It yowled and scrambled up on the sofa.

"Muraki!"

"I already told you - I don't need it."

Tsuzuki swore to himself as he bent down to look for them. "You're the most ungrateful, pig-headed..." One cufflink was under the sofa, the other next to the lighter. When he picked it up, the cat pounced on the lighter and hissed loudly to stake its claim.

"Building a friendship?" Muraki sneered. He went to the window. "An idea worthy of a naive simpleton. Of all the ways to prove oneself--"

He caught sight of Tsuzuki and the cat in the window's reflection. Squatting on the floor, Tsuzuki waved one of the cufflinks above the creature's head. When it hissed and reared up to scratch him, Tsuzuki lifted his hand out of reach.

Muraki stroked his chin, his expression thoughtful. He turned around. "Tsuzuki-san, if you are so fond of childish games, I will do my best to indulge you. Come to me."

Tsuzuki stood up. "Shut up and wear the cufflinks." He strode to Muraki and held them out again. "I'm trying to help you. You're Metal and Water deficient thanks to your stupid demonic covenant."

"I am deficient because you partake freely of me yet hoard your essence like a miser!" He yanked Tsuzuki close. "You mistreat me with your cruelty and carelessness, therefore you bear equal responsibility for my condition!" He began to pull at Tsuzuki's tie.

"Dammit Muraki!" Tsuzuki wrenched at roving hands. The cufflinks fell to the floor. "Is this all you think about?"

Muraki dragged his jacket from his shoulder. "First we must unveil your illuminating brilliance." His mouth burned as he bit into the side of Tsuzuki's throat.

"No." Fear coiled within Tsuzuki. Muraki was the light bearer, not him.

"I offer my wretched body in humble worship." He pulled Tsuzuki with him to the window with its view of the Nagasaki. "Let everyone in the city bear witness to your true form."

"Shut up! You keep talking the same garbage..." Burning pain sizzled down Tsuzuki's shoulder blades. So much for orgasm ending this torment - another of Muraki's many lies. "We have to break the covenant! Tell me the demon's name!"

"You are the source of life..." Muraki pushed him against the window, "...that brings light into the world."

"I need the name!" He shoved uselessly at Muraki's chest. He recalled his fuda double, pinned in the same position three nights ago, and its helpless submission to Muraki's lust. It was a foreshadowing of his surrender tonight - and every night he came to Nagasaki. All his resolve and willpower kept crumbling to dust.

"Reveal yourself to me, and you will remember." Muraki seized his wrists and pinned them against the cold glass. His false eye lit up behind his silver bangs. "Look and find the answer you seek."

Piercing rays of light blinded him, so bright he felt they stabbed into his brain. Not again. He had to resist. He had to fight.

Tsuzuki scrunched his eyes shut. He cast the vanishing spell.

Muraki overbalanced and hit the window with a thud.

Tsuzuki repositioned himself on the other side the room, cloaked by invisibility. He felt no triumph - only the heart-pounding relief at a narrow escape.

Muraki hissed and whirled around. "You coward!" His furious gaze scoured the room. "You resort to trickery once more. All your life and afterlife you've been running - a century's worth of cowardice! Even after our last encounter in Kyoto, you cower in fear like a child!" He yanked off his tie, unhooked his cummerbund, and ripped at the buttons of his dress shirt.

Tsuzuki looked away, hands clenched in fists.

"Did you not resist my attempt to crush your spirit with guilt? Did you not choose to acknowledge your past and accept your destiny?" He pulled the shirt off to reveal the scars curling around his waist and torso. "Behold the evidence - the power of Metal! You shed my blood! You purified me of sin by your own hand--"

"I didn't purify anything!" Tsuzuki paced to the other side of the room when Muraki looked his way. "You never listened to me! I tried to talk to you, and you never listened! All I wanted was for you to stop killing other people!" He hugged himself, frustrated and guilt-ridden. "You left me no choice."

Muraki looked around, trying to track Tsuzuki's voice. "You brought me new life. I was led through the cold valley of death into the warmth of your life-giving spirit."

"I'm a God of Death. I kill people - I don't save them."

"There's a first time for everything, ne? Perhaps a career change is in order."

Tsuzuki stopped pacing to stare at him. How often had he wished he could extend life - give people the opportunity to fulfil their hopes and dreams? But that wasn't the task EnmaCho had given him. Sometimes Tsuzuki knew he could work around the rules. For those who faced terminal illness, he could extend lifespan a little by appealing to Hakushaku's mercy and tolerating his lecherous advances. But in the case of sudden violent death, he could do nothing.

What use was an extension, anyway? Merely a temporary reprieve before the jaws of death devoured them whole. A spark of false hope before the flame was finally snuffed out.

Like the false hope Muraki was giving him now.

Muraki waited near the coffee table, his gaze darting about for any sign of Tsuzuki's presence. When nothing happened, he lifted his head and combed his silver hair off his brow with a restless hand.

Hidden by the invisibility spell, Tsuzuki positioned himself behind Muraki. Without a corporeal form to block the light, the lamplight flowed through him to shine over Muraki's shoulder blades and back. The scratches marking his spine were now healing scabs. Further down, they intersected with the thick scars around his narrow waist before disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Tsuzuki studied them with narrowed eyes. More than human. Less than demon. Still desirable in spite of his mortal frailty.

A demon sharing the body of a human host. It was unheard of, without precedent. But a demon too weak to take proper possession may be forced to settle for this curious symbiosis. And a human like Muraki, raging at his human shortcomings, would jump at the chance to share in a demon's knowledge and power.

"I am going to take a bath. I tire of being the _Oni_ in our game of _Onigokko._ You do not play by the rules." Muraki looked over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You're supposed to stop running once I've caught you."

Tsuzuki couldn't believe it.

Muraki turned around. "When you have finished with your vaudeville tricks, you are welcome to join me." He sauntered past the cat playing with the lighter. In the kitchen he took out two pillar candles, a box of matches, a bottle of red wine, a small waiter's corkscrew and a single wineglass. He carried them into the bathroom and left the door wide open.

Tsuzuki didn't move. His heart thumped in his chest. No human could see through the cloaking spell. Hell, it was good enough to fool a shinigami. It had fooled Muraki before.

It was coincidence Muraki looked his way. A lucky guess, nothing more. It had to be.

Tsuzuki sank into the sofa. Torn wrapping and boxes were strewn on the coffee table. Quietly he began to tidy up the mess. He packed the cufflinks back in its box and placed it next to the parcel containing the pen. He picked up the velvet gloves he tossed aside before. The metal clasps contained no magic. He placed them back on the table.

Inside the bathroom, he could hear Muraki taking a shower.

If Muraki spoke truth, then feeding him would also feed the demon within him. His powers would grow, along with his ability to wreak chaos and destruction.

That was the last thing Tsuzuki wanted. But he couldn't sit by and do nothing while Muraki suffered.

Neither could he deny the pleasure he found in satisfying Muraki's hunger. He enjoyed it very much. Too much.

Tsuzuki shook his head. Pleasurable or not, he shouldn't have given in. Muraki hinted that their sexual encounters involved energy transfer, so too much of this could drain Tsuzuki's own power. Tsuzuki didn't feel weak now, but perhaps he would notice effects later. More importantly, their encounters distracted him from his own goal: to break the demonic covenant.

But how? He still had no name to summon the demon forth. And what would be Muraki's fate if he succeeded? More importantly, what would be _his_ fate if he failed?

Tsuzuki interlaced his fingers in front of him. Failure wasn't an option.

He thought of the case involving Hijiri and Saagatanus. Burning the cursed violin lured Saagatanus out, for it was the instrument the demon used to lure mortals into a contract.

The cat jumped on the table. It dropped the lighter from its mouth and meowed loudly at the empty space Tsuzuki occupied.

There was no obvious instrument in this case - only a pyrophilic cat that could see through cloaking spells, and a sex-crazed human with a glowing artificial eye. The eye Muraki preferred to keep hidden beneath his hair.

The eye! Could that be the instrument?

Tsuzuki pressed his fingers to his lips. But when he gouged it out aboard the Queen Camellia, no furious demon emerged seeking vengeance. Muraki was already under contract at the time, wasn't he? He said the contract became a covenant after the Kyoto incident. So the eye couldn't be it - although it was of demonic significance.

Tsuzuki rested his forehead in his hands. He still didn't know when Muraki first encountered the demon, or his reasons for entering into the contract. He knew nothing about how Muraki acquired the false eye...or the significance of his name written on it.

Maybe someone was trying to set him up - pin the blame for Muraki's covenant on him, and manipulate Muraki to believe it too. It sounded preposterous to Tsuzuki but he was running out of ideas. Why bring them together? What purpose could it serve?

A memory came to him: Muraki gouging out Saagatanus's eye, and the demon's subsequent destruction.

_Without vision... _

Eyes mattered to a demon. And Muraki was missing one of his.

The cat sat on the table, tail curled around itself. Its unblinking grey gaze never shifted from Tsuzuki's face.

Tsuzuki lifted his head. He knew what he needed: information about the false eye. There must be medical records in the hospital or clinic that performed the surgery. Maybe Muraki carried a business card of the eye specialist who treated him. Presumably he would need regular follow-up appointments.

He put on his trenchcoat, then cloaked it with the invisibility spell. Muraki's tuxedo jacket lay on the sofa. He took out the wallet from one of the pockets.

It couldn't hurt to search his personal effects for clues.

* * *

Two guards flanked the staircase leading up to the entrance of EnmaDaiOh's residence. Each held torches lit by burning flames. From a distance, they looked humanoid. 

Holding a small candlestick to guide the way, Watson approached them. Humanoids he could deal with. The animal spirits were the ones he dreaded - it was trickier to avoid claws and teeth than fists and feet.

Up close he saw they weren't quite human - they each possessed the head of a bird, with a hooked beak like a bird of prey. Their shoulders were draped with long red feathers.

Watson's candlestick shook in his hand. He took small comfort in knowing they didn't have wings - at least they couldn't dive-bomb him off the premises.

One guard stepped forward. "Halt! Who goes there?"

"A servant of Hakushaku-sama." Watson put down his candlestick, knelt down and lowered his face to the ground. "Hakushaku-sama sends his warmest greetings to EnmaDaiOh-sama..."

The guard's beady eye rolled in horror. "What is this thing?" he muttered to the other guard.

"Not sure. Might have been an exceptionally ugly dwarf once."

"...he offers his deepest apologies for disturbing EnmaDaiOh-sama at this late hour..."

"Get to the point! What is your business with DaiOh-sama?"

Watson held out the sealed envelope. "I-I bear news of the utmost importance for EnmaDaiOh-sama. It-it is imperative that he receives this letter. Hakushaku-sama wrote it with his own hand..."

The guard snatched it up. "This is ridiculous! If this news is so urgent, why does Hakushaku not deliver it himself?"

"H-Hakushaku-sama...has important duties. He tends the candles..."

"Important duties? Is this the same Hakushaku-sama who does nothing but live off the generosity of DaiOh-sama? The same Hakushaku-sama who gets funding for extravagant renovations while the rest of us get by on a minimum living wage?" He eyed the seal on the back of the envelope, then tossed it to the other guard. "Open it. Let us read this 'urgent' news for ourselves."

Watson ran forward. "No! The letter is for EnmaDaiOh-sama. Only he is allowed to open it!"

The guard kicked him away. "I gave you orders to halt!"

With his disproportionately large head, Watson didn't stand a chance. He tumbled and rolled like a soccer ball along the lawn. Finally he lay gasping on the grass, his head aching but intact. He had experienced worse.

"Are you sure we should open it? It does bear the seal of Hakushaku."

"DaiOh-sama is a busy person. Our job is to protect him, whether it be from frivolous distractions or dangerous threats."

The guard broke the seal and took out a single sheet of paper. He held it to the torchlight.

_"'The white rabbit sleeps, and yet he does not sleep.  
He has died, and yet he is not dead.  
Asleep and dead, he will rise again.'_

"That's all. There's no salutation or signature."

The first guard turned on Watson. "Is this a trick? You dare to waste DaiOh-sama's time with nursery rhymes?" He lowered the torch. "You will be punished for this act of contempt! Your master too!"

Watson lifted his head, but the wave of dizziness was too much. The searing heat of the flames warmed what skin remained on his face.

The second guard screamed. The letter burst into flames that quickly spread along his entire arm. Thick black smoke swirled around him, carrying the terrible odour of burning flesh.

Horrified, the first guard rushed to help his comrade.

Watson lurched to his feet, too dazed to wonder at his narrow escape. He fled into the darkness without his candlestick. He'd seen more than enough fire for one night.

* * *

Muraki's wallet contained a lot of cash, and nothing else. 

There were no credit cards; no business cards - neither his nor those belonging to other people. There were no membership cards either - the employees at the country club recognised him on sight. There wasn't a driver's licence or a hospital ID card. There were no receipts either.

Tsuzuki searched the tuxedo jacket. The apartment keys and car keys were unlabelled. The lighter was sterling silver, and didn't work. The box of cigarettes was simply that.

He unfolded Muraki's glasses and held them to the light. The left was a prescription lens - a greater power than Tsuzuki's own reading glasses. The right contained no power at all.

Presumably Muraki's false eye had 20/20 vision...when he chose to reveal it. He preferred to conceal it most of the time.

Tsuzuki frowned. Concealing the false eye seemed to defeat the purpose of having an eye implant in the first place.

Looking through the rest of Muraki's apartment drew a similar blank. He couldn't find a passport, birth certificate or any identification papers. No travel documents. He couldn't even find a book or magazine. There was no reading material at all. In his wardrobe his coats, suits, shirts and ties were neatly hung on their hangers. All pockets were empty. Even his luggage bag - in new condition - was unlabelled.

Muraki kept his possessions organised neatly. Items were sorted in drawers: ties, belts, underwear, socks. Tsuzuki examined the collection of cufflinks. The pair he had chosen wouldn't look out of place among them.

The grey cat padded after Tsuzuki. It jumped on the chest of drawers and peered inside as well.

"What's wrong with the pair I gave him?" he asked. "How are these any better?"

The cat let out a plaintive meow.

Tsuzuki realised this was one of the few times he and the cat were alone together. "What are you to him? How long have you followed him?"

Another meow was his answer.

"Would you like more gifts blessed with Fire?"

The cat tilted its head to one side.

"I can bring them to you. In return, I need names: yours and his."

The feline flattened its ears and let out a vicious hiss.

"Okay. Just his name."

Sharp claws scratched the back of his hand.

"Hey! A simple 'no' is enough!"

The nightstand drawer yielded cartridges of ammunition and three jars of lubricant. Tsuzuki felt a bit ill looking at them. He wasn't sure which thought disturbed him the most: Muraki killing again or using all that lubricant on him.

The kitchen was well stocked with utensils and cutlery, but only contained a few groceries: milk, instant coffee powder, sugar, rice, a few bottles of wine, some miso paste and tofu. He searched the tuxedo jacket one more time. No mobile phone. No address book. Muraki carried nothing that could be used to identify him or trace his whereabouts. He'd checked everywhere - barring a hidden safe - and come up empty.

Well, almost everywhere.

Tsuzuki slowly made his way to the bathroom. He didn't want to invade Muraki's personal privacy. And he wasn't interested in Muraki's offer of a shared bath.

No. Definitely not.

The feline looked at him then the lighter. After a few seconds' indecision, it chose to toy with the lighter.

Tsuzuki steeled himself for what he would find. He couldn't give in to temptation again. He could resist - he knew he could. All he needed was the willpower.

Framed by the open doorway, Muraki towelled his hair. He was completely nude from the chest down.

Tsuzuki turned his back, silently fuming. Didn't he have any sense of modesty? What kind of person paraded nude before guests - visible or not?

The sound of a striking match made Tsuzuki peek. With the towel wrapped around his hips, Muraki lit two candles then turned off the overhead lights. Soft gold light cast a warm glow over the broad planes of his torso, softening the angularity of his features. He turned on the taps of the spa bath.

Curious, Tsuzuki wandered inside. The sunken tub looked spacious for one person, but crowded for two.

Muraki sat on the bath edge and picked up the wine bottle. He flicked a serrated blade from the waiter's corkscrew using one hand. With a swift circular incision, he opened the foil seal, then folded the blade down and flicked two other tools from the same instrument: a coiled wire and a metal lever. He twisted the coil into the cork, placed the lever on the lip of the bottle, and lifted the cork out with a soft pop.

Tsuzuki was envious at his manual dexterity. How easy he made it look. Muraki was as good as a professional sommelier.

Muraki poured himself a small amount of wine. He tested the water temperature with one hand while swirling the glass and taking languid sips with the other.

Quietly Tsuzuki went to the open wine bottle and took a sniff.

Muraki turned his way, one brow lifted.

Tsuzuki froze. He saw Muraki's gaze look right through him at the bottle.

Muraki lowered his head. A slight smile hovered on his lips. He began to place the glass on the vanity unit next to the bottle.

Quickly Tsuzuki sidestepped in the nick in time. A close call.

Muraki adjusted the tub controls. The water bubbled and swirled like a seething cauldron.

Tsuzuki had never seen anything like it. The water of natural hot springs was still and serene. Bubbling water was an indicator of volcanic vents releasing sulphurous gases - popular for sightseeing only. Anyone foolish to dip in such waters would smell like rotten eggs and be scalded to death.

But this bath was fragrant with a hint of invigorating citrus scents. Tsuzuki wondered how it compared to the hot springs.

Muraki seemed satisfied with the bath. He placed the two candles at the far of the tub, then took off his towel and stepped inside. Bubbles covered his entire body, cocooning him in swirling froth. He reclined back to face the two candles. His entire expression was one of unadulterated bliss. Tsuzuki remembered seeing it during their first night: the lifted chin, the closed eyes, the ecstatic concentration during that first exquisite thrust...

Tsuzuki turned away, annoyed at himself. With Muraki oblivious to everything except his own pleasure, this was his chance to search the room.

There was a pure white handkerchief in one of Muraki's trouser pockets, a little creased but unused. The vanity unit contained a mix of toiletries - nothing out of the ordinary. After checking to make sure Muraki's eyes were closed, he slowly opened the single drawer to find soap, toothpaste, electric shaver.

Tsuzuki sat on the edge of the bath, arms folded. Despite his reckless behaviour, Muraki knew how to protect his secrets.

He watched Muraki's face gilded by gold flame. He inhaled the fragrant steam and listened to the soothing sound of bubbling water. For a host with an invisible guest wandering his apartment, Muraki was surprisingly unruffled. But then, Muraki was no ordinary mortal.

Tsuzuki bit his lip. To extract information from Muraki, he needed a plan...something as manipulative and devious as the man himself.

He eyed the two candles, their gold flames tall and still. He cast an illusion spell to make the flames flicker and project his voice.

"Muraki."

As if sensing an imperceptible draft, the flames flickered in the still air.

Muraki opened his eyes at once. His gaze locked on the candle. "Tsuzuki-san? Show yourself and join me."

"Answer my questions, then I will do as you wish."

"You know I dislike conversing with ghosts. You could just as easily interrogate me while you are in the bath--"

"No, I couldn't, and you know it!" Both candle flames wavered wildly.

Muraki stretched out both arms to the candles, his smile wolfish. "Come to me, and I will make you forget these trifling concerns."

"Tell me why the Yakuza are after you. I know you don't want them to find you - you carry no identification to avoid being traced and you brandished a gun when I arrived here. Is this about money? Have they tried to blackmail you - or you them?"

"Blackmail?" Muraki looked affronted at the very idea. "I do not need to resort to such clumsy methods to maintain my living standards. As for being blackmailed, one must first have compromising evidence, ne? A wise person covers his tracks and ensures there is no evidence to find in the first place."

"I suppose you know that better than anyone else." Tsuzuki remembered Muraki's callous manipulation of Tsubaki, and the mayhem he caused aboard the Queen Camellia. "Then why are they after you?"

"A doctor is always in demand. Colleagues approach you for corridor consultations. Friends and acquaintances solicit your advice at social functions. Even on holiday, it is not uncommon to receive calls seeking your opinion on a particular case." Muraki's brows furrowed together as he eyed the candles. "People identify you with your profession and forget about your underlying humanity. They expect miracles, and are furious when you prove to be fallible."

By the side of the bath, Tsuzuki studied Muraki's sober profile. "So...is that why the Yakuza are after you? Did an operation of yours go wrong?"

"In a manner of speaking." Muraki didn't elaborate.

"Who was the patient? Did this person die?"

"Death is a possible outcome in any operation, especially high-risk procedures on seriously ill patients - it happens to the most senior specialists as well as the junior registrar-in-training. We provide the best care we can, but we cannot predict every eventuality. All patients are informed of the probability of complications when they give consent." He lowered his gaze, his expression grim. "However, some insist on allocating blame when things go wrong. They seek a scapegoat. Perhaps it alleviates their own feelings of helplessness and guilt."

"So what do they want from you? Compensation?"

"Revenge." Muraki smiled cheerfully. "I believe they have orders to execute me. But let us not dwell on such a dreary conversation topic--"

"What? If they're trying to kill you, you should tell the police! You should have bodyguards, some kind of security system--"

"Not at all. Involving the authorities will only draw attention to my own stained hands." He lifted them up so the water trickled through his fingers. "I can handle this situation. All my life I have worked alone. This is no different." He clasped his hands in prayer and bowed his head. "If anything happens to me, you will come to my rescue, ne?"

Tsuzuki's jaw dropped. "Don't involve me in this!" Both flames shook. "This is a problem of your own making! You shouldn't have collaborated with the Yakuza to begin with!"

"For which I am sincerely repentant. I will cease dealing with all criminal elements as you have commanded."

"I'm a shinigami! I'm not your personal bodyguard! I deal with demons and spirits, not thugs and criminals!"

Muraki's brows lifted at the vehemence of the disembodied voice. "Do not question your abilities, Tsuzuki-san. Your experience with demons will serve you well. I have found from experience that demons and criminals share many common traits--"

"No! That's not it!" Tsuzuki pulled his hair. "Why the hell must I bail you out of your shady dealings?"

"Because I am yours."

"Don't say that! You have your own will! I'm not telling you to do anything!"

"Deny it all you wish, but you have seen the evidence of your name and mark." Muraki reclined into the tub and closed his eyes. "It is your responsibility to protect what is yours."

Tsuzuki watched him for a long moment, his impatience growing. Muraki always kept bringing up this ludicrous idea of ownership. How could he calmly speak of himself as property to be owned? Tsuzuki did feel responsible for his predicament, but his sense of obligation only extended so far. Helping Muraki fend off demons was one thing...but dealing with Muraki's human enemies was another.

"You keep calling yourself 'mine.' My what? You never did explain."

"There is not one word that can express what we are to each other. The simplistic titles of 'friend' and 'enemy' are inadequate."

"Whatever you are, Muraki, you're not my friend."

"Neither do I wish to be yours." Disdain edged Muraki's voice. "I seek more than what is permitted by the restrictive bounds of mere friendship." He looked thoughtfully at the flickering flames. "It would be easier for me to demonstrate. See those two candles?"

"Yes."

Muraki scooped up a handful of water. Without shifting his gaze, he threw it over the side of the tub - right into Tsuzuki's face.

"Muraki!"

Water droplets clung to Tsuzuki's invisible form. Caught by the candlelight, they formed a fragmented crystalline cast of his face suspended in mid-air.

Muraki was delighted. "I found you!" Grabbing Tsuzuki by the back of the head, he dunked him face first into the water and pulled him up. "There, that is better! I can see you properly now!"

"Muraki!" Spluttering with fury, Tsuzuki tried to wipe the water from his eyes. "What the hell was that for?"

"I am revealing you to the world! Did you think you can hide from me?" Muraki reached up to pour scoops of water on Tsuzuki's head. "This day I cleanse you with Water! But there is one..."

"You...idiot!" Tsuzuki grabbed him by the throat. "Enough!"

"...whose name I am unworthy to utter..."

"Stop it!"

"Reveal yourself! Why hide like a fugitive?" Muraki splashed more water in Tsuzuki's face, then ran his wet fingers through invisible hair. "Our game of Hide and Seek is over. I win. You must come out - every child knows this rule."

Tsuzuki shimmered into view, his damp hair stuck up at bizarre angles, his narrowed violet eyes glittering slits. Being seated on the tub edge gave him a height advantage - he loomed over Muraki like a crouching panther about to pounce.

"How did you know? How did you know where I was?" He shook Muraki for emphasis. "The invisibility cloak is meant to be foolproof!"

Muraki surged to his feet. Sheets of water fell from his shoulders and arms. Glistening rivulets streamed down his chest. Candlelight gilded every gleaming lineament of his torso with gold. Their positions were reversed - Muraki loomed over Tsuzuki, leaving him clinging to Muraki's neck for support.

With his one true eye, Muraki stared at Tsuzuki with the superciliousness of a deity regarding a lowly worshipper.

Tsuzuki simply gazed up at him, awe-struck. He knew he should let go, yet he couldn't loosen his fingers.

Muraki looked like a magnificent god. Not a God of Death, but a true god beholden to no one. He could have been a god of Water emerging from the waves, or a god of gold Metal rising from his daily ablution.

"Don't you know?" Muraki tilted his head, his expression softening. "A servant must be able to perceive his master behind any spell or charm. How else can he offer proper homage and service?"

"What?"

"Join me and I will reveal all."

Muraki hauled him down. Tsuzuki fell into the bath with a huge splash.

"Muraki! I'm still dressed!"

"You must take off your clothes! Allow me to help you."

Curious about the commotion, the cat went to look. From the doorway, it watched in alarm while the two men grappled with each other. Water spilled from the tub onto the floor, and splashed across the mirror and the vanity unit. When some droplets splattered across the doorway, the cat scrambled away.

Tsuzuki flailed his arms and legs, splashing water everywhere. His wet shirt clung to his torso. His trenchcoat billowed around him. Jets of water pummelled his body from all directions, alarming him further. "Dammit! You're just making it worse!"

"But I am yours - your wish is my command." Muraki wrenched at Tsuzuki's soaking shirt.

"Then I command you to stop!" Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki's shoulders and shoved him in the water.

Muraki torpedoed up like a playful dolphin, silver hair plastered to his scalp. "Yes! Cleanse me! Replenish me! You alone have the power!"

"You idiot! I command you to--"

Muraki kissed him. Tsuzuki fell back into a recessed seat moulded into the tub wall, his back to the candles. Jets of warm water surged against him from many directions, ticklish and strange...and oddly soothing. Muraki's hands were braced either side of the tub, preventing his escape. His cool wet lips yielded to reveal a fruity sweetness Tsuzuki found delicious.

Tsuzuki came to the bemused conclusion Muraki's spa bath was far better than any public hot spring.

He was getting sidetracked. Muraki's demanding insistence left him eager and trembling, wanting more despite his better judgement. He didn't know what they were to each other, but Muraki was no humble servant. And Tsuzuki knew he wasn't acting the role of a proper master.

Maybe it was time to call Muraki's bluff.

"Enough." Tsuzuki turned his face to one side, his jaw clenched. "You taste different."

"It's the wine." Muraki tilted his head, his lips teasingly close. His breath tickled Tsuzuki's cheek. "Would you like to sample it again?"

"Yes - no! I want a glass." Tsuzuki fought to keep his tone even and authoritative, difficult when Muraki was in such close proximity. "I want you to pour me a glass of wine and leave me alone."

"But where's the fun in that, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki moved closer to nuzzle his cheek. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose of your little visits? Admit it - you enjoy this as much as I do."

Tsuzuki lifted his hand to shove Muraki's jaw away.

Muraki seized his wrist. "You traitor. You dare use that knockout spell again?"

"You are not to touch me without permission!" Tsuzuki eyed him with the same implacable determination. "If you are mine, you will prove it by obeying my commands."

"I am yours, but neither am I a subservient fool. I reserve the right to refuse commands driven by idiocy, ignorance and cowardice." He glared at Tsuzuki's wet shirtsleeve. "Only a fool takes a bath fully dressed."

"You..." Tsuzuki wrenched his wrist free. "You dragged me in here! This is your fault!"

"You always give contradictory commands! When I offer to undress you, you reject my assistance!"

"That's because I don't need it!" Tsuzuki lifted one hand up, pointed his index finger at his throat, and swung his hand down. With a few murmured words, his upper torso, visible above the frothing water was bare.

Muraki's crestfallen expression was comical. "I never knew undressing a shinigami could be so straightforward...unless your clothes are merely invisible." He reached out to test it.

"I don't recall giving you permission to touch me."

Muraki's hand froze inches from Tsuzuki's bare shoulder. His good eye regarded Tsuzuki with a sharp assessing curiosity. "No, you did not."

"Disobey my orders one more time and I'll join my wet clothes back in Meifu like that." Tsuzuki clicked his fingers to make his point, and the candle flames trembled in time. "Thanks to you, I have extra laundry to do - may as well get started on it sooner rather than later."

Muraki retreated back to sit at the other end of the tub. "Very well. I will obey. I am yours." He reached for the bottle and poured Tsuzuki a glass.

Tsuzuki bent his knees to his chest, doing his best to avoid contact with Muraki's legs. He wasn't fooled by the man's obedience. Muraki played along because it suited his purpose. Ending their evening prematurely would ruin his plans. His deadline - their deadline - was only four nights away.

"This is Penfold's Grange Hermitage, considered one of the world's great red wines. Made from Shiraz blended with a little Cabernet Sauvignon, this vintage has been aged for over twenty years - the time it takes for a human to reach adulthood, but a blink of an eye to an immortal shinigami." Muraki held the glass out to him. "Inhale the bouquet and sip it slowly to appreciate the complex flavours."

Their fingers touched when Tsuzuki took the glass.

"Forgive me." Muraki bowed his head in humble apology. "That was unintentional, I assure you."

"It's fine." Tsuzuki had to pinch himself. He half-expected Muraki to pounce on him the moment he looked away to take a sip.

Carefully he held up the glass so the wine caught the candlelight. The liquid glowed a deep red-purple. He followed Muraki's example by swirling it in the bowl. Keeping his gaze on Muraki, he sniffed it cautiously. The aroma was extremely pleasant: fruity with an extra aroma that reminded him of rich dark chocolate. The flavours on his tongue were an intense mix of ripe fruit and chocolate perfectly balanced by a tannic astringency that lingered long after he had swallowed it down.

Liquid heat uncurled within his stomach - a milder version of the post-orgasmic languor he felt after coming in Muraki's mouth.

Muraki reclined in the bubbling water to watch him. "What do you think of it?"

"Good. Really good." Woefully inadequate a description, but Tsuzuki was still savouring the full-bodied taste. He took another sip.

"I'm glad to know it pleases you. When you have finished..." He raised a brow when Tsuzuki emptied the entire glass in one long swallow.

"Incredible." Tsuzuki blinked, a little dazed as he licked his lips. "I can't remember the last time I had wine this good."

"Probably the Chateau Margaux we shared aboard the Queen Camellia," Muraki murmured. "You won't appreciate any wine properly if you gulp it down."

"I appreciate it enough to want some more." Tsuzuki held out his glass. "You hardly filled the glass last time."

"A wine glass should not be filled to the brim. The purpose of the bowl is to collect the bouquet--"

"Fill it up. That's an order, Muraki."

Anger flared in Muraki's good eye. "Very well."

A full glass was tricky to swirl, but the aroma was still heady and the flavour remained delicious. Tsuzuki reclined a little against the tub, warmed outside by bubbling water and inside by red wine. It would have been paradise if it wasn't for Muraki watching him across the tub with brooding intent. With his wet hair slicked back to reveal the severe angularity of his face, he looked even more imposing and forbidding than usual.

Even his false eye was revealed, no longer hidden behind the silver curtain of hair. Both upper and lower eyelids were retracted to create that eerie wide diameter. Tsuzuki wondered if the muscles around them were paralysed. He compared it to the true eye - deep set, heavy lidded and slanted with thick lashes - and felt a twinge of sympathy.

The event that led to Muraki's eye loss must have been gruesome.

"What is it? Does something displease you?" Muraki asked.

"No, nothing."

Muraki wasn't fooled. "Do you find me ugly?" Anger hardened his voice. "Does looking at my face disgust you?"

"No!" Tsuzuki's reply was vehement. "I never said that!"

The candle flames behind him suddenly flared, surprising them both.

"Interesting," Muraki murmured. "The flames are synchronised to your speech pattern to trick the observer into thinking they are the source of your voice. A clever distraction technique."

Tsuzuki lifted the spell around the flames with a wave of his hand. "Not clever enough for you. You even saw through my invisibility spell."

"Untrue. I never saw you until you chose to reveal yourself."

"Then how did you know where to throw the water?"

"I am yours. To me, your energy is a warm fire in a cold room. I cannot help but be drawn to you. I must seek you out with every fibre of my being--"

"Okay, that's enough! I get the picture."

Muraki bowed his head, but not quick enough to hide his mischievous grin. "I was only trying to explain."

"How long have you had this ability? You didn't sense me the first night I came here."

"How could I acknowledge you when my own power was weak? For the past three nights you teased and taunted me. Your cruelty nearly drove me to the breaking point."

"I didn't mean to be cruel. And now you've been fed--"

"Only by wearing the guise of your shikigami. Even now you continue to humiliate me." Muraki's voice was edged with bitterness. "But beggars cannot be choosers. Even this is better than nothing." His gaze locked on Tsuzuki's, bold and direct. "You have nourished me. Your essence is now imprinted in my mind. The more you feed me, the more my ability to acknowledge and worship you will improve."

"I don't want to be worshipped!"

Muraki closed his eyes, ignoring him. "I will offer homage and bring glory to your name. In time, I will prove my worth to you."

So Muraki wanted more? This was the last thing Tsuzuki wanted. Silently he damned himself for being so weak. If only there was a spell to turn back time and reverse what happened in the alleyway.

Or even better, reverse Muraki's entire demonic covenant.

Tsuzuki drained his glass and placed it on the side of the tub. He cleared his throat. "You don't have to do all those things for me. All I want are answers to my questions."

"What questions?"

"Let's start with your false eye. How long have you had it? How did you lose your eye in the first place?"

Muraki's brow furrowed in displeasure.

"I'm making this a command, Muraki. Tell me about your eye."

"When I show you the signature, you become angry. When I attempt to remind you, you reject knowledge to embrace forgetfulness." Muraki turned his head to conceal the false eye from view. "You gouged out the implant once, and attempted it again three days ago. Why do you care about it now?"

"Well...why shouldn't I care?" Tsuzuki felt awkward and a little guilty. "If I'm supposed to be responsible for you, I need to know about aspects of your past: the injuries on your body, the enemies you've made. I'm sure the Yakuza aren't the only people after you." He saw Muraki smile warmly at him. "What?"

"I am deeply touched by your concern for my welfare. At last you begin to take your responsibilities seriously."

"I'm not concerned!" Tsuzuki clenched his hands into fists under the water. Even in the confines of a decadent spa bath, Muraki knew how to make him angry. "Look, never mind that. Answer my questions."

Muraki took the empty wine glass. He pressed his lips over the wine residue left on the rim by Tsuzuki's mouth, his eyes shut in bliss. When Tsuzuki shifted and looked away, Muraki smiled and poured wine for himself. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you look?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Candles flank your shoulders, bathing your head in a halo of gold light. Your entire face is in shadow, yet your amethyst eyes glitter with an unquenchable fire." Muraki's own febrile gaze moved restlessly over Tsuzuki. "You enjoy giving me orders, ne? Watching another person do your bidding can be a most empowering experience. But it comes with responsibility. It is your duty to protect and preserve those under your command."

"You don't serve me! You don't listen to me half the time! You won't even answer my questions."

Muraki took a sip of wine. "Tsuzuki-san, have you ever wondered what it would be like to be ruler of Meifu? Imagine, just for a moment, having this world and the next in the palm of your hand?" His eyes glittered over the rim of the wine glass. "You need never condemn a mortal to a premature death again. At your command, every human could be given the opportunity to fulfil his or her potential by living a normal lifespan. Who needs the Kiseki to dictate when people die?" He held the glass up in a toast. "You - a being of compassion and mercy - could have ultimate control over all life and all death. Wouldn't that be a more fair and just arrangement?"

Tsuzuki watched the frothy water made up of tiny white bubbles. They tickled and popped against his flesh like Muraki's words: flattering and seductive, but just as insubstantial and vacuous. Tsuzuki's loyalty remained to EnmaDaiOh; he wasn't interested in challenging his authority, let alone attempt a coup. He wasn't conceited enough to believe he could do a better job. For seventy four years he had served as a shinigami. That was not about to change - he was certain of it.

He glanced up to meet Muraki's challenging silver gaze. Puffed with pride, Muraki looked every inch a being who had never once tasted the bitterness of failure or disappointment - equally certain of the success of his outlandish proposal.

It almost hurt to look at him.

"Muraki." Tsuzuki's voice was low and quiet. "Are you serious?"

Muraki smiled once more and offered him the glass. "Are you interested?"

* * *

Notes: 

1. "Onigokko" - Japanese version of the children's game 'tag.' The person who has to tag everyone else is known as 'oni' or demon.  
2. The words of Hakushaku's letter are paraphrased from August Derleth's book "The Trail of Cthulhu."


	18. First test: forbidden sacrament

I'm so sorry for the delay in updating. Thanks so much to those who left comments and reviews. I'm very grateful for the support and encouragement for this overlong oversexed story.

I'd like to thank Gengkotsuya, who has provided much inspiration with dialogue, a particular scene, theories and insights - and reminding me what my story is about. Thanks too to Amethyst Hunter for her helpful comments.

Muraki-kun has done a couple of pencil portraits of Muraki and Tsuzuki - unrelated to this story, but very cute. Miss Kittin has done a seriously sexy artwork of semi-nude Tsuzuki. You can find them at my site.

* * *

Tsuzuki didn't smile back. "I'm not a traitor." He took the glass and finished off the wine in one long swallow. "And you must be out of your mind to think I'd turn on EnmaDaiOh-sama and betray my colleagues at the Shoukanka." 

"Why do you assume your fellow shinigami will align themselves with Enma? Do you not consider them to be 'friends'? Surely if they are worthy of the title, they will at least assess the merit of your claim before deciding their loyalties."

"Merit? You think I have merit?" Tsuzuki shook his head. "You insult me one moment then flatter me the next. You have to make up your mind."

"As you must make up yours," Muraki retorted. "Decisions cannot be put on hold forever. If you choose the path of inaction, the buffeting winds of fate and circumstance will trap you into a decision from which you cannot escape." Muraki braced his elbows on the sides of the tub. "Is this what you want? To be tossed through the air like a drifting sakura petal, helpless and directionless, without any control over your future?"

Tsuzuki thought of the sakura trees in Meifu, their branches weighed down with hundreds of blossoms, and the delicate petals that kept falling day after day, month after month. Year after year.

"We are all sakura petals, Muraki. Every one of us."

"But most of us are not petals by choice." Muraki's icy gaze raked over Tsuzuki. "Most of us strive to make something of ourselves, and fight tooth and nail to hold onto what we hold dear. Many prize the gift of life most of all. This was what drew me to surgery as a career. Death had taken so much from me already - and I wanted revenge. In my youthful idealism, I thought I could battle death with a scalpel and sutures." He snorted to himself, his gaze lowered. "My naivete during that time sickens me now."

Tsuzuki watched sadly. "It's not sickening, Muraki."

"You know nothing about being a doctor."

"Maybe so, but I've always thought being a doctor must be the most selfless and noble of all the occupations." He placed the glass on the side of the tub before clasping his hands around his knees under the water. "You help people when they are at their most vulnerable. You have the knowledge and skill to ease their suffering, and give them hope. You...you even have the power to save a life!"

Muraki let out a short sharp laugh. "Hah! Doctors are not miracle workers--"

"Not all the time, I know - but there are times when you do make a difference - a big difference." Tsuzuki leaned forward as he warmed to his topic. "Remember Norata-san's daughter, the girl who waited on us at the ramen restaurant?" He smiled at Muraki's look of surprise. "She and her family will always be grateful to you for operating on her, ne? You changed her fate. You helped that petal of life cling a little more tightly to the tree. That's an achievement to be proud of."

"Is it?" Muraki stared at Tsuzuki, eyes wide. "Do you realise this is the first time you have properly complimented me. This truly is a night of many firsts."

Tsuzuki flushed. "It's...it's just the truth."

"Thank you...but your praise is misguided." Muraki scooped up a handful of bath water and let it run through his fingers. The clasp of the silver mesh bracelet tinkled with his movements. "She must take anticoagulation medication to thin her blood for the rest of her life - the same chemical used in rat poison, but a life-saving treatment for her. However, it comes with dangerous side-effects. She can never take part in physical contact sports because she risks a life-threatening haemorrhage in the event of any physical trauma. She must never fall pregnant on this treatment because it causes gross deformities in the developing foetus. She must keep a careful watch on what she eats, for changes in her diet can affect the degree of anticoagulation. If her blood is too thin, her risk of bleeding is greater. If her blood is not thin enough, she risks blood clots on the valve prosthesis. Even the valve I placed within her may cause problems - bacteria can lodge on the prosthesis to cause life-threatening infective endocarditis."

"Oh." Tsuzuki's enthusiasm was crushed. "I didn't know."

Muraki's stern features softened a little. "You are not a doctor - how are you to know?"

"Does she know all this? Does her family?"

"Yes. All these things and more were explained to them. She lives for now...but she will never lead the carefree life of a healthy young woman. She has merely traded one set of problems for another."

"I guess it's too much to expect her to be completely well," Tsuzuki conceded. "But did you see their joy and gratitude when Norata-san and his family welcomed you to their restaurant? They aren't going to let some event that may or may not happen in the future mar their happiness now. And why should they? Worrying won't change anything." Tsuzuki leaned closer to look Muraki in the eye. "You know what your problem is, Muraki? You're a pessimist. You're so accustomed to seeing the human body crumbling under disease you forget it can undergo repair and regeneration. If it simply fell apart all the time, you'd be out of a job."

Muraki went still. "Regeneration," he repeated. His voice was hushed in reverence. "Palingenesia. Rebirth." He looked at Tsuzuki strangely. "You are partly correct about humans, Tsuzuki-san. Some tissues maintain regenerative potential throughout life: liver, skin, hair, mucous membranes. But most cells lose this potential in adulthood. At best, we can slow the arrow of time but we cannot stop or reverse its course. At least, not on our own." He held up his wrist to reveal the silver bracelet. "This is one blessing your shikigami can never give me, ne?"

"No one can dispense eternal life to a single entity." Tsuzuki remembered Genbu's words. "All living things must die in order for the world to remain in balance. We're all part of the great cycle of life. Even when we die, new life comes forth from our remains. It's just like..."

The memory came to him, sharp and clear. He was with his mother and sister in the summer garden with the wilting tulips.

_The flowers may be dead, but the plants haven't finished their cycle yet. We must wait until the leaves have withered too. Only then will the bulbs return their life-giving nutrients to the soil for new plants to use._

He smiled to himself, treasuring the little fact. Generous, unselfish tulips. Another reason he liked them.

Across the tub, Muraki watched him like a hawk. "Like what?"

"Tulips," he said. "I just remembered something."

"A happy memory?"

"Yeah. My mother did a lot of gardening. My sister and I helped her." He smiled, still caught up in nostalgia. "Some of the happiest moments of my life were spent outdoors, watching plants sprout and grow and blossom--"

"And die?"

Jarred out of his reverie, Tsuzuki refused to be perturbed. "All things die, Muraki. Nothing lives forever."

"But did it not break your heart as a little boy to see your plants ravaged by insects and fungi, to have them frozen by frost and parched by heat? Did you ever wish you could reverse the damage and regenerate them anew? To bring the dead to life - freeze time in its tracks and send it scurrying backwards to do your bidding - did you ever long for such a power?"

Of course he did - and not only for the sake of the plants he loved. "That's impossible. There's no point in wishing for what cannot be."

"Look who's the pessimist now," Muraki mocked. "Would you rather sit and watch the universe descend into chaos? Or perhaps that is what you truly desire. After all, you are a God of Death. Isn't rampant disorder the ultimate death?"

"What do you mean 'sit and watch'? What do you expect me to do about it? My shikigami can't fix this! The flow of time is beyond the control of all beings, physical or spiritual!" Tsuzuki stopped to wrestle his emotions under control, then continued in a calmer tone of voice. "That's why we have the Kiseki. Souls who have outlived their time in the world of the living need to be escorted back to Meifu. A shinigami's job is to maintain the balance between all things in the physical world."

Muraki waved the words aside. "Don't parrot the EnmaCho party line to me. Balance is a myth put forward by those who hold the reins of power. Survival is a dynamic war for limited resources. When the opponents are evenly matched, there is the illusion of harmony and equilibrium. But in the battle between Meifu and Makai, the demon world, nothing could be further from the truth: Meifu is ascendant, Makai on the wane. So much for maintaining the delicate 'balance.' But there is one hope...one shining hope." From under the water, Muraki nudged Tsuzuki's calf with his foot.

Quickly Tsuzuki shifted away. "What hope?"

"Rebirth. The promise of eternal life issuing forth from the devouring void." Muraki smiled at Tsuzuki's puzzled look. "Humans are not the only beings interested in regeneration. There are many who wish to learn how to master this power for their own purposes. Tell me, how many aspects of elemental magic do you know of?"

"Aspects? I know four types: Fire, Water, Earth, and Metal that combines the power of Wind."

"Yes, these are the four known aspects of the original primordial energy - the formless chaos that existed at the dawn of time. Each is governed by a powerful celestial god that embodies each element in its purest form: Suzaku, Genbu, Souryuu, Byakko. You know this, of course - these four are yours to command." He lifted a brow. "But did you know of a fifth?"

"I know that traditional medicine refers to a five-element system to understand and treat illness. Some ancient texts explain the world in term of five elements or phases. But shikigami only fall into four elemental types."

"Ahhh. That is because this fifth aspect is different to the others. There is no benevolent god bequeathing it to the masses, for this is an occult element that has yet to be tapped. It holds power that is anathema to shikigami, irrespective of element type, for it consumes all the other energy types within itself. All shikigami are impotent against it. Disorder can be undone; entropy can be reversed. The arrow of time can be spun in a whole new direction." He leaned forward. "Using this energy, one can create order from chaos. True regeneration is possible - and with it, eternal life."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Tsuzuki scoffed. "My shikigami have never spoken of it--"

"And why should they? Why would they want to reveal this weakness to their master?" Muraki challenged. "Of course they will keep it secret from you."

"If this power is great enough to defeat a shikigami, why aren't other spirits using it?"

"Because they are too foolish to see what is right in front of them. There is none so blind as those who refuse to see." Muraki's voice was a silken sneer. "This energy is not like the others - it is not found in pure form. It lies scattered like the stars across the heavens. But if someone learned how to gather it, distil it, harness it - can you imagine the power they would have at their fingertips? Your shikigami - the spirits that created the physical world - would be enslaved to a new master. This person would have unlimited power over all the worlds, physical and spiritual, as well as the power of eternal life!"

Tsuzuki pondered this. The power of regeneration would end human misery and suffering, but it came at too high a price. People had to die to maintain the balance of all things. If people lived forever, how could new life survive and prosper? And the idea of anyone harming his shikigami, draining their power, angered him. His shikigami had placed their faith in him by accepting him as master. He would not abuse their trust.

"So you're continuing your crazy quest for eternal life. I should have known. Well, I know nothing about this power - this fifth 'aspect' you're after. You're not going to get anywhere by coming to me."

"Really? Are you sure you have never seen such a power at work, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki's eyes glittered, and his false eye began to glow. "A dark power so impenetrable it could nullify a shikigami's pure energy?"

The power that protected him and Hisoka from Touda's black flames...

No. It couldn't be. He refused to believe it.

"If it's untapped by demons, then I have nothing to worry about," he replied quickly. "No demon has ever used this elemental energy in battle--"

"Of course not. Didn't you know? Demons are the weakest of all the spirits. Dependent on borrowed Fire alone, they cannot call on the infinite elemental power of a shikigami. Neither do they have an omnipotent entity bequeathing them power. Why else do you think demons prey on human souls as they do?" His thin lips curled in disgust. "They eat like savages because they are starving. They have no Kiseki to order from, no shinigami to wait on them. They must hunt for sustenance on their own."

Tsuzuki looked at him for a long time. "Do you feel sorry for demons?"

Muraki snorted. "Not at all. This is what they deserve. This is the fate they have chosen for themselves - parasites feeding on humanity's underbelly when Meifu deigns to lower the defensive wards."

"You mean...Meifu permits demons to enter the world of the living?"

"Yes, as agreed in the 'treaty' between Enma and Ashitarote. There is a strict roster in place detailing demon names, times, regions they may frequent, their duration of stay, the methods by which they may feed." Muraki chuckled. "It is policed by demons too. It is very much like an Immigration Department in this world, as bureaucratic and hierarchical as any government department. Since Ashitarote has made himself Enma's lapdog, this institution is effectively answerable to EnmaCho. Despicable, ne? And to think demons once sought to be rulers of the afterlife."

Tsuzuki had suspected something like this for a long time. The demon hierarchy was a lot more disorganised and secretive than JuOhCho, but there was a definite chain of command with a military-style ranking system. To maintain a truce with the demon world, concessions were necessary. Tolerating the activities of a few demons was the price EnmaCho paid to keep the peace between Meifu and the demon world.

He thought of Hisoka, cursed after witnessing a demonic sacrifice ritual. He looked across at Muraki, with his false eye and cryptic smile, trapped within his demonic covenant. Two ruined lives.

And there were more who had died at Muraki's hand. All these wrecked lives were the price of EnmaCho's truce with demons. To Tsuzuki, the price was already too high. But it was not a lowly shinigami's job to question EnmaCho policy.

Tsuzuki rested his forearms on his knees. "Despite what you say, you don't despise all demons. You took in the cat, ne?"

"No man is an island." Muraki poured wine again. "I thought a pet could provide companionship."

"Not any pet - a trapped demon. And you freely call on demons to do your bidding." Tsuzuki shook his head when Muraki offered him the glass. "I thought to summon a demon you needed to draw a magical circle and pentagram to protect yourself from harm, and offer a sacrifice to win its favour. But all you do is invoke their name and they manifest themselves instantly to fight on your behalf. Even Saagatanus - he wanted to attack you at first, but you subdued him with your gaze." A note of wistful awe crept into his voice. "I've never seen anyone do anything like that."

Muraki sipped his wine. "He saw the name of whom I serve. He was humbled by the greatness he read there."

"No, he recognised you." _Or what you've become._ "It was you he called 'immeasurable light.'"

"Like all demons, Saagatanus has lived in the ignorance of darkness for too long." Muraki swirled the wine in its glass, his gaze hooded. "To this pathetic dog, any light would appear immeasurable."

Tsuzuki bit his lip. Knowing a demon's title or rank wasn't the same as knowing its name...but it was a start.

"Muraki, are you familiar with the Christian Bible?"

"A little." His grey gaze held Tsuzuki's over the rim of the glass. "Why do you ask?"

"In the Bible...there's a title given to one who bears light." Tsuzuki swallowed. His throat felt dry. "I want you to tell me...if that title applies to you."

Muraki took another sip. "Very well."

Tsuzuki couldn't say it. The implications if he were proved right were too horrible to contemplate. The name reverberated within his mind. The syllables were trapped in his throat.

"Are you sure you don't want more wine? Perhaps it will loosen your tongue--"

"I'm getting to it!" Tsuzuki gathered his determination, and steeled himself for the worst. "Lucifer," he whispered.

Nothing happened, apart from the lift of Muraki's brows.

"Lucifer," he repeated, this time with conviction. "Lucifer the light-bearer."

Muraki's face fell. Suddenly he looked tired and weary...and old.

"Is that your title? Am I right?" When Muraki remained mute, Tsuzuki knelt forward, his earlier desire to avoid Muraki forgotten. "Tell me!"

Muraki lowered his gaze. "My patients usually call me 'sensei' or 'doctor.' But historically speaking, 'doctor' is inaccurate. The Western surgical profession has its origins in the humble barber." He swirled the wine in his glass and inhaled the bouquet. "Therefore, the correct title should be 'mister'--"

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki lunged forward to yank the glass from Muraki's lips. "Answer my question! Answer it now! That's an order!"

"I answered you already." Muraki's chin lifted, his expression haughty once more. "You know my titles, but I doubt you will start addressing me properly."

"I'm talking about your title among demons! The promise of immeasurable light! The reason all demons listen to you! This...this is the true purpose of your covenant, isn't it? It's making you come to me so it can stay alive! We're both being manipulated by it! The only way we can stop it is by working together!"

Muraki hauled him close with his free hand. "You are right. Let's work together this very minute."

"Listen, dammit!" Tsuzuki forced his jaw up so they faced each other nose to nose. "Don't you see how it's using you? You've sold your soul to house this monster inside you! You were a doctor helping people, saving lives! You were doing good things to help the human race - all the things I wanted to do but never could!" The words tumbled from his lips, a flood of anguish he couldn't hold back any longer. "How could you squander everything? How could you turn your back on your training and hopes, on all the patients who put their trust in you? How could you relinquish your humanity without a second glance?"

"Relinquish my humanity? If only I could." Muraki's lips twisted. "Let me show you what it means to be human."

He closed his hand around the wineglass. It shattered within his fist.

Tsuzuki winced. Glass shards rained against his arm. Small pinpricks jabbed his chest and throat. He stared in horror as dark liquid dripped between the webs of Muraki's clenched fingers - the deep red-purple wine stained with bright red blood.

"See for yourself, Tsuzuki-san. See how easily a human sheds his blood. Our bodies are weak, fragile things." He opened his palm - it was covered in blood. "Do you want to know the real reason why my plan to bring Saki back to life failed?"

"You idiot! What the hell did you do that for?" He looked around wildly, grabbed a nearby facecloth, and tried to staunch the bleeding.

"Dissecting the fascia and muscle was easy enough," Muraki continued, indifferent to Tsuzuki's panic. "But the deeper tissues resisted my scalpel. Your major vessels and nerves wriggled about like worms, branching out to reconnect themselves, burrowing deeper inside your flesh, even tangling themselves around my blade and fingers."

"Never mind that!" Clumsily Tsuzuki folded Muraki's fingers into a fist around the material. "You're the doctor! Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"

"I never realised the extent of your recuperative powers. My grandfather's papers did not prepare me for such tenacious and vigorous proliferation. The anatomy was rearranging itself before my eyes - it became impossible for me to orient myself. I exchanged my scalpel for a meat cleaver - not that it helped. The additional trauma activated the regeneration of more tissues. Your entire body was healing before my eyes - like time in reverse..."

Tsuzuki swore to himself. This wasn't working. The facecloth was soaked; rivulets of blood trickled down Muraki's forearm into the frothy water of the spa bath. He knew next to nothing about first aid - a shinigami had no need for such knowledge.

But a shinigami could unlock the elemental magic of his shikigami.

He grabbed Muraki's other wrist, the one with the silver bracelet. "If you injure yourself like this again, you face the consequences of your own stupidity!"

"You accused me of relinquishing my humanity. I merely wanted to correct your misconception."

"You..." Tsuzuki pulled the facecloth free. There were multiple lacerations across the palm and fingers, all of them studded with sparkling slivers of glass. Blood welled up in the deeper palmar cuts.

Muraki didn't spare his hand a glance; he was more intrigued by Tsuzuki's alarm. "It will heal, but it will take weeks...possibly months. There will probably be areas of reduced or abnormal sensation - peripheral nerves regenerate much more slowly than other tissue."

Tsuzuki took firm hold of the silver bracelet on Muraki's other wrist. Imbued with Metal energy, it would obey him in the same way Byakko followed his commands. He closed his eyes and mentally recited the spell to unlock its power.

_Preserver of kings and generals, brave warrior guarding the dead in their graves - protect the bearer of this amulet._

The bracelet glowed with a pure white radiance. Tsuzuki gripped it hard and directed the energy to its target. With his brow furrowed in concentration, he watched Muraki's face. The last thing he wanted to do was risk a burnout to Muraki's human physique. He was out of practice when it came to channelling power. The last person he'd used as a medium for channelling was Hisoka to fight the demon dragon OhRyu - and Tsuzuki had ended up carrying him to safety after Hisoka suffered an energy burnout.

Now he used this same technique to heal Muraki. The irony wasn't lost on him.

Muraki shivered, his eyes wide. "What are you..." He looked at his injured hand properly for the first time. The small superficial cuts on his fingers were fusing before his eyes. "It itches and aches. Ahh."

When Muraki tried to jerk both wrists free, Tsuzuki held them more tightly. "Our joined hands form a continuous circuit - this is the best way to channel power."

Muraki bent his forehead against Tsuzuki's shoulder. "The flesh...it moves of its own accord. I feel it pulling tight." He hissed, eyes screwed shut. "You are cruel. A doctor would use...local anaesthetic."

Tsuzuki spared him no sympathy. "Serves you right."

Muraki nipped his shoulder in spite, then lifted his head to watch the healing for himself.

The bleeding from Muraki's palm slowed to a trickle. A thick layer of blood clot, the same red-purple colour as the wine, covered his entire hand. Trapped within the sticky gelatinous layer were hundreds of tiny glass shards.

Focusing his own power, Tsuzuki made the shards and blood clot vanish. There, that was better. He made them rematerialise inside the wastebin by the vanity unit, where it fell with a muffled crunch.

"Wash the rest of the blood off." When Muraki simply stared, Tsuzuki became annoyed. "What? Must I do everything for you?"

"You're holding my other hand."

Tsuzuki released it, only to take hold of the injured hand and immerse it in the water. With careful fingers he rubbed at the coagulated blood to reveal intact skin. Only the deepest cut left a mark - a thread-like white scar down the lower half of Muraki's palm. He turned the hand over to inspect between the fingers, then let out a sigh of relief. It had worked.

"You healed me." Muraki bowed his head. "With your power you regenerated my decrepit human flesh."

"It was the energy in the bracelet. Can you move your fingers? Does your skin feel okay?"

"It feels as good as new." Muraki demonstrated by clasping Tsuzuki's face between his palms, and nuzzling his forehead. "As if time itself were wound back and disorder reversed."

"Time wasn't wound back. This is Byakko's power," Tsuzuki explained. He tried to extricate himself from Muraki's hold. "Metal's power protects and preserves. It can accelerate normal healing."

Muraki pulled him into his arms. "And you were the one who channelled this power through me." Tenderly he began to nibble Tsuzuki's ear.

"It was a one-off thing, idiot! I can't believe you did something so stupid! I thought a doctor would know better."

"Just as you protected me from demon attack, nourished me with your blood and essence, cleansed me with water - so tonight you have healed me. I am energised and renewed because of you."

"No! I'm not here to help you..." Tsuzuki's words trailed off; Muraki's mouth had found that sensitive spot behind his ear. "...in your twisted schemes..."

"Deny it all you like, but your actions tonight tell a different story." His hand stroked boldly down Tsuzuki's back to cup one lean buttock beneath the water. "I am yours - and you know it."

Tsuzuki's heart sank, even as his body began to respond. He felt like the biggest fool on earth, and Meifu...and probably the demon world. All his efforts to help Muraki break the covenant only strengthened Muraki's delusions about belonging to him. He had to do something to shatter that belief...something to prove his indifference.

"Let me feed again," Muraki murmured. "This time I'll take it slower so you can savour it properly." He squeezed the flexing muscle he held.

Tsuzuki shook his head, trembling. He made a half-hearted attempt to resist when Muraki caught his mouth in a wine-flavoured kiss.

"Delicious." Muraki allowed his fingerpads to tease the sensitive cleft of Tsuzuki's ass. "Now I am nourished, I can show you my true physical stamina."

"No..." Fierce longing rippled through Tsuzuki, terrifying him more than Muraki's words. If he gave in this time, he would have no shred of credibility left.

He clenched his jaw. Act like a master, lay down rules, behave with the same cold callous indifference as Muraki himself...

That was it!

"No more." He took hold of Muraki's hand and pulled it away. "Enough. I want to do something different. It's now my turn to...to feed from you!"

"Feed from me? In your current state, you need to release energy, not accumulate it."

Tsuzuki felt his entire face turn red. But Muraki's displeasure strengthened his resolve. It was time Muraki learned he couldn't have everything his own way.

"You call me selfish? What about you? I've had enough of your demands! I'm going to take back the energy you took from me!"

Muraki's lower lip curled. "Are you so greedy you cannot foresee the outcome of your gluttony? Or perhaps you enjoy the 'treatment' I must inflict on you afterwards. You always curl up in my arms like a babe when the growing pains start."

Tsuzuki quashed the excitement stirring within him. It was no time to be sidetracked. "Enough of your bragging. You said you were mine - now do as I say." He kept his voice low and firm, the same tone he used to summon his shikigami. "I order you to sit on the side of the bath and spread your legs."

Muraki didn't move. His slanted eyes narrowed into ominous slits.

"You aren't mine, are you? I knew it all along. Why create such a ridiculous lie in the--"

Without a word, Muraki braced his arms on either side of the bath and lifted himself up. Water droplets clung to his lean physique, making his skin glisten in the soft candlelight. Sitting on the bath gave him a formidable height advantage, for he now loomed over Tsuzuki, his gaze as haughty as an aristocratic lord eyeing a lowly subject. Between his bent knees, his cock pointed in Tsuzuki's direction at eye level, its semi-erect interest at odds with Muraki's remoteness.

Tsuzuki swallowed. Muraki was beautiful. Even the ugly false eye could not detract from his raw masculine beauty. The flaw only made him even more striking, adding a tragic dimension to his handsome severity.

But Tsuzuki knew he couldn't be distracted. Muraki had tricked him of his essence. He had to get it back.

That was the only reason he was doing this.

With his face still warm with embarrassment, he took hold of Muraki's knees and guided them further apart. There was a moment of resistance before Muraki obeyed. When Tsuzuki glanced up, he saw Muraki leaning back with arms braced behind him, his features cold.

Just like Metal. Metal appeared immovable and solid - until it was placed within the fire of a foundry furnace, and hammered and stretched and folded into the blade of a katana. Tsuzuki was no swordsmith but he knew he could provide the fire. His insides were already kindling with desire at the sight of Muraki's nude body. He would make Muraki sizzle and glow with the same heat too.

Tsuzuki knelt on the recessed seat and took hold of Muraki's erection. The cock stiffened in longing, lengthening in Tsuzuki's palm, welcoming his touch. Human, not metal.

Tsuzuki lowered his head. His mouth filled with saliva. His heart hammered wildly in his chest. The scent and warmth of Muraki's body surrounded him, cocooned him. He closed his eyes and took Muraki past his lips, over his tongue. The crown nudged his palate, twitching restlessly. Tsuzuki twisted his head and soothed it with lashes of his tongue.

On either side of him, Muraki's thighs were taut with tension. No entreaty or protest left his lips. The only sound in the room was the soothing gurgle of the spa bath.

Using one hand on Muraki's thigh for support, Tsuzuki guided the cock deeper. The light saltiness of flesh yielded to the musky taste of precome, making his mouth water. The taste of Muraki himself - the same taste denied to him a day ago. It was sharp and bitter, lingering on the back of his tongue. Like Muraki's tears, but stronger and richer.

Essence. The vital substance contained in all corporeal things. The source of life. And this belonged to Muraki.

Tsuzuki swallowed once, then again. He adored sweet desserts, but this was something else. Something to savour slowly with care, not devoured and forgotten. Holding the shaft in one hand to guide its entry, he allowed the crown to slide past his palate, along the back of his tongue. Deeper, and deeper...

The shaft grew within his mouth. The satin-smooth flesh against his lips was curving, lifting, hardening.

Audible above the gurgling sounds of the spa bath, Tsuzuki could hear Muraki's panting breaths. It blew across the nape of his neck and back, a gentle tickling that betrayed Muraki's growing arousal.

Shamelessly Tsuzuki nestled himself within the V of Muraki's thighs, his forehead nudging Muraki's abdomen. Who was he kidding with such teasing? He had never been a patient man - he was a glutton, not a gourmand. He swallowed down as much as he could, drinking the essence that oozed forth, encouraging more with the persistent gulp of his throat muscles. When the bulk became suffocating, he withdrew his mouth and used his fingers to milk Muraki's cock. When he had caught his breath, he returned to lap the liquid trickling from the crown and down his fingers, and resumed drinking with renewed frenzy.

Muraki exhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. Not a sound left his tightly drawn lips.

Tsuzuki lifted his head to watch, his own breathing harsh. He kept jerking Muraki off with his intertwined fingers, refusing to allow him any reprieve. "Tell me the name of the demon...you made your covenant with."

"Tsuzuki-san." His voice was a husky rasp. "Tsuzuki-san..."

"Tell me the name! Or I'll drain you of your precious essence."

Muraki said nothing. When Tsuzuki swooped down to swallow his cock once more, he simply shuddered in mute pleasure and curled his fingers in Tsuzuki's damp hair - a man resigned to his fate.

Prowling restlessly by the doorway, the grey cat hissed at them.

Tsuzuki was too intent on his self-imposed task to notice. He focused on the feel of the flesh gliding in and out of his mouth, the scent, the taste, the velvet heat against his lips and tongue...every inch of it delicious. Shifting the angle of his mouth and drawing in his cheeks, he encouraged the cock against the inside of his cheek, then the back of his throat, shifting it playfully inside his mouth using the teasing nudge of his tongue.

Muraki wasn't listening either. His body was tensed against the tiled wall, his slitted gaze lifted up to the ceiling. When a particularly intense ripple of delight passed through him, his lips parted and his eyelids shut - all the better to appreciate Tsuzuki's efforts.

The cat eyed the pools of water on the bathroom floor. It tentatively placed one paw down before retreating in disgust. Lashing its tail, it let out a series of loud plaintive meows to attract their attention.

"Leave us be. Do not interrupt us." Muraki's voice was deep and husky, imbued with the throaty growl of arousal. "This is...as it should be. I am his...and he..."

Tsuzuki looked up, violet eyes alight with impatience. "I know what you are! You've taken enough from him already!" He gestured in the cat's direction with a sweep of his hand. The door slammed shut in the creature's stunned face.

Muraki looked at him, eyes wide. "Did you understand what it said?"

"I'm not the one who talks to animals." Holding the shaft in one hand, Tsuzuki lapped and nuzzled the crown of Muraki's cock with his lips.

"I didn't think...you minded an audience."

"You be quiet too. The only thing I want to hear from you is the name of your demon." He took Muraki's cock in his mouth.

"Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki bowed his head for a moment, jaw clenched. "Once...I would have gladly fed you." His words were indistinct and low, slurred by passion. "You could have feasted freely...drunk deep until you were quenched. I'd fill you again and again until you were intoxicated with me." He caressed Tsuzuki's hair with one hand, his gaze strangely tender. "Too late. There is nothing here - nothing left to drain."

Tsuzuki lifted his head. His lips were moist with saliva and precome. "The name, dammit! Tell me the name!"

"Tsuzuki-san," he whispered. "I am yours."

Tsuzuki cupped Muraki's balls and squeezed them until Muraki groaned. "Then I'll take you at your word - I'll make a living feast of your body - this body which belongs to me." He traced a prominent vein along the shaft using his tongue tip. "I'll feed off your energy...use you as you used your victims." He swallowed down the erection, greed overwhelming caution.

The bulk filling his mouth and throat, the way it twitched against his lips...it filled him with a deep primal satisfaction. He lashed it with his tongue, swallowed it with his throat, let the shaft slide against the slippery surface of inner cheek and tongue. This was his revenge for last night's torture, for those hours he'd writhed against the sheets while Muraki devoured him like a crazed succubus, and he was going to enjoy every minute.

He'd fantasised about devouring Muraki yesterday. The act of fellatio was the next best thing.

Above him, Muraki trembled, head arched back. His arms were braced by the tub to support himself. He lifted his pelvis up to guide his cock deep into Tsuzuki's mouth.

"We are two of a kind, you and I. Your ravenous appetite...an echo of mine. The parched emptiness that shrivels the soul...the empty fire that only burns itself out." He managed a strangled laugh. "There's no escape, ne? Even in the utopia of Enma's afterlife..." A soft growl left his throat - Tsuzuki's eager gulping threatened to break his willpower. He clutched Tsuzuki's hair, his breathing ragged. "This broken vessel is near empty. But if that is your wish--"

Tsuzuki wrenched himself away, gasping for breath. His brow was furrowed in a furious scowl, his eyes narrowed slits. Hunger and lust tore at his insides. The prickling heat sizzled along his shoulder blades.

Muraki's words, spoken in the husky and intimate tone of a lover, lacerated his soul with the blade of painful truth.

He couldn't do it. He wanted it so much.

Muraki sat hunched forward, head bent. Damp tendrils of silver hair fell over his brow. His cock arrowed up from the shadows between his thighs. Apart from his harsh breaths, he was silent.

"It's not my wish!" Tsuzuki spat out. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. "I'm not like you. I have no interest in toying with a puppet."

"Really?" Despite his obvious discomfort, Muraki managed to sound amused. "Then why feed from me? What else could you hope to gain?"

Tsuzuki hung his head. He had been about to sink to Muraki's level without a second thought...and worst of all, Muraki knew. His humiliation was complete.

"You know the extent of my misdeeds. Do you think I could ever be shocked by yours? Put away your mask - there is no need of it here. Reveal your true form to me."

Could Muraki be right? Did he really have another form, an entirely different 'self'? His ability to use elemental Water to defeat Saagatanus and the prickling heat along his shoulder blades were signs of the changes occurring within him. He didn't understand what they meant, but he knew no good could come from them.

Then there was his lust for Muraki, a desire that defied his better judgement and overrode the loyalties to those he loved. At least hunger he could understand - this was the one physical affliction that burdened him even in the afterlife. He knew the best way to deal with hunger. Surely lust was no different. When he was full he would walk away - simple as that.

"I'll do it." With one hand on each side of the tub, Tsuzuki pushed himself up to a standing position. "On one condition."

Muraki's heavy-lidded gaze wandered over his chest, the flatness of his abdomen...and lower to more intimate areas. "Name it."

"I expect the same--" Tsuzuki swooped down to pin Muraki against the tiled wall. "--of you!" His mouth collided with a chiselled jaw before slanting across to initiate an open-mouthed kiss. Their legs tangled too, a chaotic mess of flexing muscle and bone.

Muraki's tongue lashed Tsuzuki's as he tasted himself. He plunged it deeper, along the roof of his mouth.

Tsuzuki shivered. Tongue, cock...he wasn't particular about what part of Muraki's body was in his mouth. He wanted it all. He only pulled away to catch his breath. "Reveal yourself..." He sucked Muraki's lower lip, then nipped his chin. "Human...demon...show me what you are."

"Yours." Muraki seized the back of his head and kissed him hard. He grabbed Tsuzuki around the waist, yanking him close. "I already told you."

Tsuzuki nearly overbalanced before he understood. Quickly he straddled Muraki's lap, his arms looping around broad shoulders, and opened his mouth to another greedy kiss. Saliva trickled between the corners of their joined lips. His hands roamed over Muraki's body. He caressed the severe planes of his face, ran his fingers along the long muscles of his throat and down his chest to linger where the racing heartbeat thudded against his ribcage. Surely Muraki was human - with all the magic in the world, no demon could manufacture a body as alive and beautiful as this.

Muraki suddenly grasped his knees, lifting them up so Tsuzuki's feet rested on the tiles behind him. The side of the bath formed a small platform wide enough to accommodate them both.

Surprised, Tsuzuki drew away - the position left him vulnerable, his legs spread apart with genitals exposed, his entire weight supported by Muraki's thighs. Muraki then slid him along his lap to bring their cocks together. Tsuzuki had to bend his knees with toes pressed against the wall, but the delicious friction made him forget the minor discomfort. Trembling with excitement, he writhed on Muraki's lap and grasped his shoulders for leverage, doing his best to rub himself against solid flesh.

Muraki stiffened, his teeth clenched. "Impatient...are we?" He gripped Tsuzuki by the waist to stop his movements.

Tsuzuki tightened his thighs around Muraki's torso, and gripped broad shoulders to anchor himself. Between their bodies, his cock swelled in pleasant anticipation.

"No finesse. No restraint." With his fingers spanning Tsuzuki's waist, Muraki dug his nails into Tsuzuki's flesh above the tight curve of each buttock. "No better than an adolescent jerking off." He slid one hand between their bodies to grab Tsuzuki's cock. "There...this will be enough for you."

Tsuzuki groaned. He bucked once, then subsided into quivering acquiescence. Muraki's grip was tight and fast, relentless, verging on cruel. The reverence and tenderness he'd shown in bringing Tsuzuki to his earlier climax was gone. Hot tears came to Tsuzuki's eyes. He rested his forehead against Muraki's shoulder to wipe them away. Between their bodies, he watched his cock bob up and down, the clenched hand slamming along the length of the shaft - visual reinforcement of Muraki's mastery over his trembling body. Trapped in the confines of Muraki's fist, his cock oozed precome in response to the rough handling, while his testicles ached with the sweetest torment.

This was the real Muraki. Domineering, demanding, ruthless to the core. He could never be a servant - his will and drive were too strong to be subdued by anyone.

"Is this all you are?" Muraki taunted against his ear. "Tell me who's the puppet now."

Tsuzuki rubbed his cheek against Muraki's and tightened his legs around him. Nothing Muraki said could diminish the jolts of pleasure vibrating through every nerve-ending, the sizzling heat scorching through his veins. Even the sound of his voice, seductively silken with an edge of derision, fuelled his arousal. He pressed kisses along the side of Muraki's neck to show his appreciation.

"Look at yourself." Muraki stroked faster, harder. "All your power...all your talent...and you dare to accuse me of squandering my abilities?"

Tsuzuki whimpered. So close. He was so close. His cock throbbed and ached so much...it was unbearable. His nails pressed into the bulk of powerful shoulder blades, a helpless spasmodic clenching timed with Muraki's fierce strokes.

"A coward afraid of his own shadow...you're the kind of person I despise most of all!" Without warning, he let go of Tsuzuki's cock and tried to shove him away.

"No!" Tsuzuki clung to him, refusing to let go. "Don't stop! Muraki, please..."

"You want to taste me, ne?" Muraki bared his teeth in a savage smile. "Then taste my disappointment. Suffer as I have. This is how it feels to be denied!"

"Muraki! You can't stop now! Please...I need this..."

Muraki pushed him away. "Stop it."

Tsuzuki went mad. He squirmed and writhed against Muraki like a crazed snake, pleading with his body. He clawed Muraki's back over and over, punishing him with his nails.

"You think I'd reveal myself to a fool like you?" Muraki clawed him back, unmoved by his frustration. When Tsuzuki tried to kiss him, he turned his face away and laughed.

Incensed beyond reason, Tsuzuki nipped sharply at one bejewelled earlobe, then sank his teeth into Muraki's shoulder. Warm liquid filled his mouth, along with a rich metallic saltiness. The fragrance was sweeter than any flower he had encountered in the land of the living or Meifu.

Muraki froze. He didn't move. He didn't breathe.

Tsuzuki withdrew, lips covered in blood. He stared at the gaping wound midway along Muraki's shoulder. Blood oozed freely from small teeth-like lacerations to pool into the hollow of his throat and trickle down his chest.

"Well, well." Muraki slumped against the tiles and chuckled. "Maybe there is hope for you after all."

_Monster! Monster! You're not human!_

_Your violet eyes...the eyes of a bloodthirsty creature._

Lust and rage drained out of Tsuzuki to leave behind a hollow emptiness.

Muraki tilted his head to one side, then winced as the movement pulled the wound further apart. "For so long you have gone hungry, ne? Others thought you greedy because they didn't understand what you needed...and you sublimated your urges to live among them."

"You planned this. You knew I'd..."

Every insult, all the ugly names - every one of them true. Self-revulsion filled him.

Tsuzuki tried to extricate himself from Muraki's lap, but Muraki held him in place and stroked his cheek. "I want to see you as you truly are, free of the confines of a century's repression. You want this, ne? Why do you hold back? My body, my blood - all of it is yours."

Tsuzuki tried to wipe the blood from his mouth. "Not like you," he whispered. "I'm not like you."

Muraki pulled his hands away and kissed him full on the lips. He lapped at the drying blood, relishing the flavour. "You are more, much more. Your flesh is the ultimate food, your blood the finest drink. Human and demon alike are drawn to you because of it. Why else do you think so many shikigami call you master?" He kissed Tsuzuki again, his tongue teasing out Tsuzuki's own. "You let me partake of you. You did not cast me away in my hour of need. Now I will do the same." Seizing Tsuzuki's head, he pushed his face into the wound. "Take this. This is my body and blood. Partake of this and be saved. As you now live within me, so I will live within you. There is no need to go without any longer."

Up close, small yellow fat globules spilled out from the bite mark. One segment of skin formed a loose flap over the wound. Beneath it was the shiny silver casing of tendon sheaths and red muscle. Thick blood continued to ooze.

The fragrance of Muraki's blood filled his nostrils. Overwhelming sweetness. The dried blood was souring in his mouth, but there was fresh blood here...as much as he could ever want.

Muraki's flesh. The flesh he'd dreamed of biting, tasting...all his for the taking.

Tsuzuki clenched his jaw. Revenge had already been served in Kyoto. There was no reason to shed Muraki's blood again. This was one desire he could never indulge.

Instead he took hold of the bracelet around Muraki's wrist. He unlocked its magic for the second time that night. Before his eyes, the flaps of skin began to flatten and pull together. The fat globules retreated within the wound. The oozing blood slowed to a trickle.

"You are stubborn beyond belief. Only a masochist would continue to ignore such proof of his true desire." Muraki snorted, his thin lips tightening in displeasure. "And only a sadist would make the healing process so acutely painful."

"It takes one to know one," Tsuzuki retorted.

He took a handful of water and poured it over the bloodstained skin. The ends of the wound were knitted together into a dark reddish crescent of scar tissue. At one corner the wound gaped open and wept serous fluid. Within his fingers, Muraki's bracelet felt cold and empty - drained of Byakko's Metal energy.

Tsuzuki squeezed the bracelet one last time, then let go. This was the best he could do. He was merely a shinigami tenured to EnmaDaiOh, dependent on his shikigami for his power. If Muraki sought the power of true regeneration, he had come to the wrong person.

"You fool," Muraki chided. "You reject me now, but one day you will accept me."

"Shut up. I'm not sinking to your level."

"There is no fighting a hunger as strong as this. The longer you deprive yourself, the greater the desire to feed. You think that gnawing ache in your stomach is for food and drink prepared by human hands? For how many years have you gorged yourself on the victuals of mortals without fulfilment?"

Tsuzuki didn't answer - he suspected Muraki already knew. As a child, he had learnt to live with hunger - although his mother made enough money to put food on the table, he had always wanted more. As a shinigami, he often splurged on lavish restaurant banquets and hearty drinking sessions that kept his expense accounts in the red.

It was never enough - but it would have to do.

"A shinigami doesn't have to feed to survive." Tsuzuki picked up the wine bottle and eyed the label. "And I'd rather drink your wine than your blood any day." He took a swig from the bottle. The warmth filled his stomach. The alcohol went to his head, making him elated and dizzy.

Muraki pulled it from his lips. "You glutton. Drink it like that and you appreciate nothing."

"It still tastes as good from the bottle."

Muraki took a sip himself. A trickle of red liquid fell along his jaw and down his neck to rest in the hollow above his collarbone - a little below the healing bite mark.

Tsuzuki watched its path with greedy eyes.

"It's better from the glass," Muraki announced when he was done. "This is a clumsy way to drink." He smiled when he saw the direction of Tsuzuki's gaze. "Don't let it go to waste." He lifted his jaw invitingly. "If you prefer wine to blood, so be it for now. You would not be the first."

"No." Tsuzuki reached down to grasp Muraki's cock. "I'll find other ways to satisfy myself." The flesh filled his palm, encouraging him to continue. "Ways you might find more to your liking, ne?"

Muraki's gaze smouldered, even as his lips curled. "You become more brazen each day." He pushed Tsuzuki's ankles off the tub edge and nudged him to his feet. "To bed now. You are cleansed already. We have no need of this bath any longer."

After drying themselves, they entered the bedroom to find the cat waiting for them on the bed, tail curling and uncurling restlessly. It jumped down to brush against Muraki's legs, winding itself around him again and again. It hissed when it saw Tsuzuki, then quickly retreated to a corner of the room.

"It's very possessive of you, isn't it? I think that's why I first assumed you were the servant."

Muraki looked up from the nightstand drawer, an enigmatic smile on his lips. "Servants come in many shapes and sizes, Tsuzuki-san." He was warming the lubricant in his fingers. "Come to bed."

Tsuzuki didn't obey at once. The anticipation of having Muraki inside him warred with other urges. "I want to feed from you first...providing it doesn't endanger you."

"Energise me once more with your essence, then you can safely take your fill." Muraki's silver eyes glowed with fondness as he pulled the sheets aside and lay on the bed. "You are concerned for me, ne? That's why you hold back."

"Don't delude yourself. I uphold the Kiseki, the book of the dead. As long as your name is not read from its pages, I have no authority to inflict serious physical harm on you." Tsuzuki sat on the edge of the bed, his expression serious. "But I promise you this: the moment JuOhCho summons you to Meifu, I will hold nothing back. I will do everything in my power to bring you to judgement!"

"I know. I'm counting on it." Muraki's tone was reassuring and oddly comforting. "But for now, you must come to me." He pulled Tsuzuki down into his arms. "Feel how much I need you. I am yours."

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. Lean-muscled heat enveloped him, binding him tight, suffocating him. This was Muraki's need: a desire so fierce it threatened to destroy what it craved.

But he wasn't afraid. Thanks to his inhumanly perfect body, he'd been the target of bullies and demons, and relegated to the dubious status of Meifu's longest-serving active shinigami. He knew his body could withstand Muraki's violence...which left him free to enjoy his passion.

Tsuzuki clutched a muscular shoulder branded with his scratches, and hid his smile in the curve of Muraki's long throat.

* * *

Watson ran. He stumbled over rocks and roots, through shrubs and bushes. Without his candlestick, it would be near impossible for him to make the journey to Hakushaku's mansion. 

Yet he kept running. He didn't need a destination. Anywhere away from EnmaDaiOh's residence would do.

_The white rabbit sleeps, and yet he does not sleep..._

It meant nothing to Watson. Or the guards, judging by their reaction.

But the letter was not for their eyes. Why did they believe they could read, let alone comprehend, the private correspondence between two of the most powerful entities in Meifu? Their derogatory comments about Hakushaku-sama were even more puzzling. Was his master held in such low esteem by the members of EnmaDaiOh's court? Watson knew some were envious of his master's lavish lifestyle, but they usually kept their thoughts to themselves.

To Watson, such lack of discipline was incomprehensible. Hakushaku-sama would never tolerate such insolence.

But those guards, like most of the beings in Meifu, were ignorant of his privileged status. By serving the guardian overseeing the candles of human lives, Watson effectively outranked most of EnmaDaiOh's courtiers. He bore more responsibility on his small shoulders than they held in their little finger...or feather or claw. EnmaDaiOh's followers took on a wide range of exotic forms.

But tonight Watson was ashamed, for he had failed to carry out his duty. He wouldn't fail a second time if he could help it. He knew he had to tell his master the bad news and await his punishment.

The fragrance of the sakura blossoms surrounded him, heady and overpowering. Watson looked up at the thin gauzy moonlight bisected by tree branches waving overhead. A strong wind blew the blossoms up into his face and rained more from the trees.

He didn't see the tree root before him. He tumbled to the ground face first, his head taking the brunt of the weight. Stars filled his vision. His head spun so much he thought it would fly off his shoulders. The pain was everywhere.

After several seconds, he tried to lift his head. The spinning was so bad he let it fall on the ground again. With his small arms he tried to push himself up. They trembled so much he gave up. All he wanted to do was rest.

_Hakushaku-sama...forgive me._

A blizzard of sakura blossoms fell around him, over him. They blanketed his weary limbs, his aching body, and his grotesque head.

His one good eye drifted shut. Darkness surrounded him - a strange sensation after living among candles for so many centuries. It was frightening. It was liberating. In the dark, there was nothing left to do.

"Tsk, tsk. Watson, don't tell me you're sleeping on the job? How uncharacteristic of you."

Watson's one eye snapped open. "Ha-Hakushaku-sama? You are here?"

A dark figure loomed over him, blocking the moonlight. "But of course. It is a master's responsibility to protect his property, ne? It would be a dereliction of my duty to allow one who bears my mark to come to harm." Gloved hands brushed away the petals and lifted him up. "You summoned me with your last remaining strength. How could I ignore your call? Besides, I wanted you to make me some of your delicious tea."

Even in his pain, Watson remembered his manners. "Yes, Hakushaku-sama. But...I have bad news. I failed to give your letter to EnmaDaiOh-sama--"

Hakushaku chuckled. "If you believe you failed, then you didn't listen to my instructions. The letter is of no consequence. I asked you to convey the message - and you completed your task with flying colours. I expect the entire court to be abuzz with the news of your visit. The message will be relayed to EnmaDaiOh's ears soon enough."

"Oh." Watson was relieved. "I am glad, Hakushaku-sama."

"As I am too." Hakushaku patted Watson's head. "Now, let us return home. That unusual candle flame you pointed out is burning most brightly. I want to see one of these brilliant flare-ups for myself."

* * *

Lying on his back, legs apart, Tsuzuki twisted white sheets in his hands. Alcohol sang in his bloodstream, dulling his resistance. Combined with Muraki's expertise at fellatio, Tsuzuki knew he didn't have a hope. 

But he tried his best under the circumstances.

"Muraki...ahhh...I want..."

Muraki tightened his lips around Tsuzuki's cock. He sucked in his cheeks to increase the friction. With one hand he pushed Tsuzuki's knee to his chest to open him up; with the other he cupped the aching testicles and stroked the sensitive perineal skin behind them. Now and then he let his nails catch on the skin.

Tsuzuki whimpered softly each time it happened. He arched his head back, shoulders hunched, twisting against the bedding. "Please...let me be the one..."

The suction intensified, a wet tightness so sweet it brought tears to Tsuzuki's eyes. He listened to the slick wet noises of Muraki's mouth and their heavy breathing as they struggled against each other.

He turned to look at the wardrobe mirror. He locked eyes with a helpless stranger: tousled dark hair, flushed skin, heavy-lidded violet eyes, chest heaving as he gasped for air. The mirror wasn't wide enough to show Muraki's reflection...but Tsuzuki didn't need to see what he was doing. He already felt so much...too much.

He tangled his fingers in Muraki's silken hair. "Listen...it's my turn."

Muraki hummed softly. It sent exquisite vibrations along Tsuzuki's cock to radiate through his entire body, a deep thrumming that crumbled his resolve and left him a trembling wreck. With one foot braced on the mattress, he tried to arch his hips and push more of himself into the welcoming haven of Muraki's mouth.

Muraki hummed once more, a low sound of amused satisfaction. He slid his lubricated fingers inside, stroking and stretching. He twisted his head to swallow more of Tsuzuki's cock.

Tsuzuki gasped. His cock twitched and swelled in Muraki's mouth. His entire body was as taut as a violin string, every muscle trembling with anticipation, every nerve-ending singing with pleasure. To be so close to another orgasm in such a short time...he never knew it was so easy. Driven by Muraki's manipulations and the eager response of his body, he thrust and squeezed, his pelvis rocking back and forth on the bed, revelling in the dual sensations.

Muraki went into overdrive. He swallowed again and again, gulping down the precome that filled his mouth. His tongue whipped along the shaft, urging Tsuzuki on to climax. He pushed his fingers deeper within Tsuzuki's trembling body, preparing him for another joining they both knew well.

Tsuzuki thrashed his head from side to side. He had to withstand this. He had to hold on. "My turn...Muraki...ohhhh..."

Muraki lifted his head. "Your turn?" he growled. He bit the flesh of Tsuzuki's inner thigh, leaving a red-purple mark. "To you this is an indulgence - for me this is life! I must feed!"

"You said we were alike. The same hunger...the same desire. You wanted me to...to partake of you..."

"So I did. But the first feeding must follow time-honoured ritual. Consumption of body and blood...takes precedence over other methods, no matter how enjoyable." He lifted Tsuzuki's knees over his shoulders. His cock slid against the lubricated cleft of Tsuzuki's ass. He lowered himself atop Tsuzuki, blanketing him, smothering him. "If you're too stubborn to accept my flesh and blood...then we're back where we started."

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. His genitals ached, pressed up hard against the unyielding bulk of Muraki's torso. The muscles of his ass quivered in anticipation of what would come next. Muraki's features filled his entire vision: the furrowed sweat-damp brow, the false eye aglow, glistening thin lips curved in a feral smile.

"You want it, ne? I can see it in your eyes, your pupils so dilated they swallow up the light. You look so beautiful when you're in full arousal, waiting for me to fuck you." His entire body was hunched, muscles coiled in preparation to strike. "Behold your disgraceful gluttony. You renounce the gift of ultimate communion...for this?"

His entry was sudden and deep - a welcome bolt of pleasure-pain that galvanised Tsuzuki's body into shuddering life.

"If you seek debasement...instead of consecration...let me be the one to do it!"

The abrupt withdrawal was worse. Deprived of sensation, Tsuzuki clutched him close and arched his body in desperate appeal.

Muraki held him down. "Be still." His false eye flared to triumphant life. "If that is your wish...so be it." He bowed his head over Tsuzuki's chest, an odd gesture of supplication that hid his face. Drops of his sweat fell on Tsuzuki's own heated skin. "I am yours. Remember..."

Tsuzuki convulsed under waves of sizzling sensation. His prostate let out a shower of sparks as Muraki found that perfect spot again and again. The angle, the position...the perfection of it left Tsuzuki trembling and panting, pinned to the mattress by Muraki's weight.

Was this what Muraki intended: to punish him with such exquisite pleasure until he went mad?

Between shaky breaths, Tsuzuki tried to speak. "Not...debasement. This too...is a gift." He squeezed Muraki's cock, accentuating the wet friction binding them together. "I'm not ashamed...to want this...to need this. Why...are you?"

Muraki exhaled sharply, but didn't speak. His head was bent, shoulders hunched - a beast of burden chained to erotic service.

With slitted reptilian-like eyes, Tsuzuki watched Muraki rise and fall over him. He adapted his own movements to match Muraki's rhythm: relaxing as he drove in, tightening as he slid out. "This connection...is special. The seeds of intimacy...and belonging...all sown here. The darkest hunger, the most depraved urges...we can release them here. Together."

"Together." Muraki lowered his gaze, his false eye glowing a little. "I like the sound of that, Tsuzuki-san." He reached between their straining bodies to oil Tsuzuki's cock with a mixture of lubricant and precome. "I like the sound of that very much."

Tsuzuki trembled. "For someone who claims sex...is a mere biological drive...you're very good at it."

"Thank you. I aim to please." He clenched his fist around the erection until Tsuzuki gasped.

"Mu-Muraki..."

"Together is good...but not enough." Muraki withdrew, and hauled his legs down. "On your hands and knees. Now...while I can still hold on."

Facing the headboard, Tsuzuki quivered as Muraki drove into him once more and jerked him off with one hand. Muraki's improved staying power combined with the deeper thrusts afforded by this new position pleased Tsuzuki very much. He clutched the sheets, and lowered himself to his elbows - all the better to withstand the vigorous bliss of Muraki's stroking and fucking - and the thrill of being alive in human skin.

"Yes...perfect." With his tongue loosened by wine, Tsuzuki no longer hid his enjoyment. "This...this feels perfect, Muraki. Ahhh. Why reject your humanity...when it can bring...such perfect pleasure?"

"Not enough..." Muraki's voice was a thick growl. "I want more...more...more." He matched deeds to his words, thrusting steadily into Tsuzuki's willing body.

"What more...is there?" Tsuzuki rubbed his forehead against the sheets to wipe away the sweat. "This is the ultimate pleasure...the most intense bonding...the act of creating new life."

"Really?" Muraki chuckled. "Is there something you're not telling me...about yourself?"

"Not with me. But with a woman...you could find a degree of immortality. Your own descendants...the recycling of your own genetic material...isn't that a type of regeneration?" The insight came to him with sudden clarity. "The goal you seek...doesn't reside in Meifu...or the demon world..." Tsuzuki swallowed as a particularly effective thrust made his cock harden in Muraki's milking fist. "It's right here...in your humanity..."

"You mean here?" Muraki murmured. "Or here?" He tilted his hips, altering the angle of entry each time. He used the hardness of Tsuzuki's cock twitching in his grip to assess his performance. "Mmm...maybe here."

"Ahhh..." Tsuzuki cleared his throat. "Damn you. Not what I meant."

"If you can talk...I must increase my efforts."

Tsuzuki fell silent, apart from steady gasping breaths of physical exertion. No words could express how good this felt. Rocking on the bed, moving together in perfect unison, Tsuzuki shut his eyes to focus on more pressing needs. Almost there - he could feel it. Aching and throbbing, his entire body burning up, he pressed his flushed face into the sheets.

"Don't hide." Muraki pulled Tsuzuki against him, chest to back. "You must never hide from me again. When you ignore me...when you fail to acknowledge me...you have no idea of my torment." He withdrew from Tsuzuki to collapse on the mattress, knees upraised.

"Muraki!" Still trembling on all fours, Tsuzuki was bereft. He couldn't take this agony alone...not when the cure was within such easy reach. "Do you enjoy torturing us both? You're not done yet either!"

"I know. Remember this feeling...for this is a fraction of what I feel when you neglect me." He laughed and laughed like a madman, and clutched the root of his erection to ease its ache. "Ahh, I must have you again. Come sit."

Tsuzuki scrambled to him. Kneeling astride Muraki's groin, he cried out and clung to strong arms for support. Hard bursts of pleasure tore through him, all the more sweeter and sharper after their brief separation. He met Muraki's vicious pelvic thrusts with joyful defiance - rising and falling in time like a child seated on the erotic version of a playground see-saw.

"Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki's false eye glowed. Using his feet to support his weight, he lifted his hips off the mattress to pound himself into Tsuzuki. "Take it...this 'humanity' you prize so much! I give it up for you!"

"Muraki...yesss..."

Beneath him, Muraki stiffened and arched one last time. The final thrust was deep, so deep Tsuzuki cried out again and clutched Muraki's shoulders to stop himself pitching forward. His cock jerked to attention...but it wasn't enough to make him climax. Tsuzuki began to jerk himself off until Muraki seized his wrist.

"This privilege...is mine. I need...to feed." Muraki guided Tsuzuki up until his cock slid free.

Tsuzuki whimpered softly at the withdrawal.

"Come here." Muraki pulled Tsuzuki closer until he straddled Muraki's chest. His erection nudged Muraki's jaw.

Braced on his knees, arms outstretched behind him to prop up his exhausted body, Tsuzuki froze.

Muraki had expended his energy. He was weakened once more, along with the demon he harboured. That was it - mission accomplished.

_Leave now! Forget your discomfort - you'll get over it! Don't submit to him again like this!_

It wouldn't take much to injure Muraki now. By sitting atop him he could crush the air from Muraki's lungs. His thighs could lock around Muraki's neck to asphyxiate him. Trapped beneath him, Muraki was helpless.

Muraki's nails dug into his hips as he guided him forward again. His lips were cool and ticklish along the underside of Tsuzuki's testicles. The taut velvet-soft skin fascinated him - he nibbled at them with the fastidious refinement of a gourmand tasting a delicacy.

Tsuzuki's cock twitched to life. But he couldn't move. Suspended by Muraki's arms and his own rock-hard thighs, his arms trembling to hold his weight, he suddenly felt as weak as a kitten.This delicate ticklish pleasure melted his muscles into mush.

Muraki lapped the underside of Tsuzuki's cock. His lips curled in devilish amusement.

With a sinking awareness, Tsuzuki realised exactly who was the helpless one.

Muraki shoved a pillow under his head, then grasped Tsuzuki's buttocks once more. He guided Tsuzuki's pelvis closer, and opened his mouth.

Tsuzuki couldn't resist. With hips thrust out, he had no choice but to accept Muraki's ravenous mouth feasting on him. Tsuzuki leaned back, thighs trembling to support himself, head thrown back in helpless abandon - his entire body a taut arc of obedience to a higher power, one priming him to the point of ultimate capitulation.

When at last the explosion came, Tsuzuki imagined he was soaring straight into the white-hot rays of the sun.

* * *

In the privacy of Hakushaku's bedroom within the Hall of Candles, the candle with the violet flame took pride of place in an ornate brass candleholder over the granite mantelpiece. The flame dimmed to a faint ember for a full minute, then flared into a bright plume several metres high. 

Watching from his bed, Hakushaku clapped and laughed, well pleased with his new source of entertainment.


	19. Gyokuto rising

Sorry for the long delay in updating. My excuse - it's a lot easier to write smut than plot.

Thanks to Gengkotsuya for her invaluable help. And thanks once more to those who've sent encouraging feedback - I appreciate it very much! Sometimes I feel frustrated with how long it takes to transfer ideas into writing, and how things always seem so much more clear in my head. So if you think there are areas I could make improvements or clarify, please let me know.

* * *

Tsuzuki opened his eyes to find himself in the moonlit garden of his dreams. The rose bushes were covered in glossy green foliage - a sign of good health. Their buds were lifted up to the silvery moonlight. A few had begun to unfurl, revealing delicate whorls of pastel pink and yellow petals. 

Roses. His mother's favourite flower.

He loved them best when they were about to open. Once in full bloom, their petals fell quickly, their overblown beauty too fragile to withstand the ravages of nature. But as demure buds revealing a hint of fragrance and colour, alive and fresh and full of promise, they were perfect.

He bent down to sniff one bud. Something cool caressed his cheek and brow. Tsuzuki jerked back to see a stray tendril from the rosebush fall away. He rubbed his face. Had he imagined it? Maybe the lingering memory of last night's dream was making him paranoid.

Children's laughter reached his ears. He walked between the rows of bushes towards it, hands in the pockets of his black trenchcoat.

In a small clearing, a woman knelt on a mat spread on the ground. Two small children, a girl and a boy, were with her. With their back to Tsuzuki, they watched the full moon hanging low in the night sky.

"I'm sleepy, Okaa-san," the girl said. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I want to go inside now."

"Not yet, Ruka. We have to wait."

"Why? This is boring. I want to go to sleep."

"The bunny is coming," the woman said. "Don't you want to see the bunny?"

"Bunny!" the boy cried. "Where is bunny?"

"Can you find it, Asato? Look hard."

Crouched within the shadows of the rosebushes, Tsuzuki caught his breath.

The dark-haired boy looked behind her, then in front of her. "No bunny." He walked around to his sister. "Onee-chan, bunny where?"

"I'm not a bunny, silly."

"I want bunny! Where is bunny?"

"All right. Here." She sat up and held her hands over her head to mimic bunny ears.

The boy jumped up and down, chuckling. "Onee-chan bunny! Onee-chan bunny! Bunny here, Okaa-san!"

"Hush! You must be quiet. Sit down and look at the moon. Look carefully and don't make a sound."

"We've been looking at the moon for ages. The moon is boring. I want to go to sleep."

"I want bunny! Bunny now!"

"Sit and I will tell you where the bunny lives. Ruka can rest her head on my lap if she's such a sleepyhead."

Sitting with his knees bent to his chest, chin resting on his forearms, Tsuzuki was overcome with a sense of nostalgia. He remembered how his mother would tell them bedtime stories exactly like this, and the way he and Ruka would absorb every word.

To experience this memory as a distant observer felt wrong. He wanted to sit on the mat next to the mother and sister he lost so long ago. But interrupting them would be rude - his younger self was already there, waiting wide-eyed for the story.

When his mother ruffled the boy's hair, Tsuzuki wistfully lifted his fingers to his own head.

"A long time ago there lived a magnificent archer named Houyi and his wife Chang'E. Houyi's bow and arrows were full of magical power. Many times Houyi saved the kingdom from ruin with his bow and arrow. When the sun shone so bright it scared away the clouds and burnt all the plants, Houyi shot his arrows at the sun to bring back the rain."

"Was the sun hurt, Okaa-san?"

"Only a little, but it was a naughty sun. It made the earth so hot that everything began to die."

"Is the sun naughty now?"

"No, because the sun learnt its lesson thanks to Houyi. And Houyi became famous throughout the kingdom for his deeds. The great queen rewarded him with the pill of immortality. But first she warned him not to eat it straight away - he needed to fast and pray for a year to prepare himself to receive this blessing.

"So Houyi brought the pill home and kept it hidden in his house. But one day, his wife Chang'E found the pill and swallowed it. She looked down and discovered she could float on air!"

"Ohhhh," both children chorused.

"When Chang'E heard her husband come home, she became afraid and flew out the window. But she couldn't stop floating. She flew higher and higher into the sky. Houyi chased after her with his bow and arrows but he couldn't bear to shoot down his own wife. So she floated all the way up until she landed on the moon and coughed up the magic pill. The pill turned into Gyokuto, the jade hare.

"To this day, Chang'E lives on the moon with Gyokuto for company. Gyokuto is very busy - he pounds the elixir of eternal life in a mortar and pestle to make more pills of immortality. Look carefully at the moon. Can you see him working?"

The children looked.

"The moon's too far away." The girl yawned. "Ohh. Okaa-san, is that a bunny ear?"

Her mother pushed her hand down. "Don't be so rude! Chang'E will cut your ears off if she sees you pointing at her like that!"

The boy kept staring, oblivious to their exchange.

"A hare on the moon is no fun." The girl became restless. "I'd rather see a real hare. I'm sleepy, Okaa-san."

"Go to sleep, Ruka. I'll tuck you in later."

She became still in her mother's lap.

The boy was transfixed by the full moon. Despite the late hour, he was wide awake.

The mother looked at him tenderly. "Do you see Gyokuto, Asato?"

The boy nodded. "Gyokuto-sama is big," he said in a loud whisper. "Will he play with me?"

"You must ask him. If you don't ask, you'll never know."

He held out his arms to the moon. "Please come down, Gyokuto-sama! I want to play with you! Gyokuto-sama! Please come and play with me! Okaa-san, why won't he come down?"

"I'll call him too. If we call together, maybe he will come. Gyokuto-sama! Gyokuto-sama!"

The boy's sing-song voice joined hers in chorus. "Gyokuto-sama! Come here and play with me!"

Tsuzuki stood up, bemused. What on earth were they doing, shouting in the middle of the night? He began to walk closer, taking care not to make noise on the soft grass.

"Gyokuto-sama! Gyokuto-sama!" The boy lowered his arms, and his shoulders slumped. "He won't come, Okaa-san. Why won't he come? Why won't he play with me? Is it...is it because of my eyes?"

"No, no! Your eyes are special, Asato. You must never be ashamed of your eyes." She hugged him close. "The other children only make fun of them because they're jealous of your special eyes."

"I don't want special eyes. I want normal eyes." His sobs were muffled against her chest.

She rocked him back and forth. "Hush now. Don't cry." She froze when she saw Tsuzuki. Her arms tightened around both children.

"It's okay. I...I haven't come for anyone."

Slowly her tension eased. "I did not recognise you, my lord." She bowed her head. "Thank you for passing over this humble household once more. When we first met I wanted to die, but now I have a purpose to live." She shook the boy's shoulder. "Look, Asato. Look who answered your call."

The boy looked up. Tousled dark hair fell into big eyes of deep violet. So cute, Tsuzuki thought, then felt a little guilty for thinking such a thing. It seemed vain to admire oneself.

Tsuzuki knelt down next to them. "Hello. What's your name?"

"Asato." The boy stared with an intentness that belied his years. "Have you come from the moon to see me?"

Tsuzuki laughed. "No, no. I'm from a place even farther away than the moon."

"Look at his eyes," his mother urged. "What colour are they?"

The boy wriggled out of his mother's arms and stood before Tsuzuki. He wobbled a little, and Tsuzuki held out a hand to steady him.

"Purple!" Chubby fingers prodded Tsuzuki's cheek, narrowly missing his eye. "You have purple eyes like me! Does everyone have purple eyes where you live?"

"No, I'm the only one." Tsuzuki tried his best to smile. "Just like you."

"Do people call you bad names because of your eyes too?"

"A long time ago, yeah."

"What did you do? How did you stop them calling you bad names?"

"I..." Tsuzuki looked away, a pained look on his face. "I never did."

"Ohh." The boy frowned, easily able to sympathise.

"Asato, come back here. It's rude to ask so many questions." His mother wrapped her arms around him, fiercely protective. To Tsuzuki she said, "I know he suffers much for being different. But I love him more than life itself. I would rather he bear their taunts than be deprived of his gentle presence in my life. I know how wicked it sounds. Who said maternal love is selfless? My love is selfish to the core."

Selfish. That was the last word Tsuzuki would have used to describe his mother. In his memories, she was nothing short of a saint: patient, kind, loving, wise. He didn't remember the glint of fear in her eyes, the tremor of desperation in her voice, the unsettled anxiety of her fingers caressing her son's head.

To see his mother as a vulnerable young widow clutching her children for dear life...

He stood up and looked away. It hurt too much to see her like this.

"Asato is my greatest treasure. Barren soil becomes fertile when he places his hands in the earth. Dying plants are revived when he touches them. The garden you see here is all his doing. With the flowers, fruits and vegetables he provides us, we will never starve." She caressed the boy's hair. "Even cursed with the stain of my sin, he blesses us. You are a good boy, Asato. Too good for a mother like me. I know you will survive these trials. Like the plants you tend, you too will flourish and prosper."

In retrospect, Tsuzuki remembered he hadn't been the only one to suffer. His entire family had been ostracised. A widow choosing to live on her own, away from her husband's family - it was considered scandalous for the times. The insults of the village children merely reflected the prejudice they'd picked up from their parents.

Tsuzuki bit his lip and lowered his head. "Don't say such things about yourself. You are a worthy mother for him. It's clear...he loves you very much. As long as you love him back, that is enough."

"Thank you." She bowed low before him. "Thank you for bringing him into my life. Thank you for answering my prayers. May he be pleasing in your sight."

"Huh? But I didn't do..." He caught himself when he saw her surprised expression.

"You are too modest, my lord. Unless..." She looked embarrassed. "Forgive me. I did not mean to impugn your reputation as a God of Death. Your destructive power remains formidable."

"No, not at all!" Tsuzuki shook his head. Who on earth did she think he was? This situation was becoming too strange for words. The best thing to do was play along. "He's...he's very pleasing in my sight." He smiled at the boy. "Don't believe what they say about you. It's stupid to judge someone by the look of their eyes." An image of Muraki with his false eye and retracted eyelids flitted through his mind. "Appearance isn't important. What's inside your heart, and how you treat other people - these are the things that matter the most in life. So don't take any notice of those bullies. Ignore them. Don't believe a word they say."

"Okay," the boy said. "I'll do my best."

"Good." Tsuzuki smiled, but he sounded inane to his own ears. Ignore the bullies! If only it were that easy.

"They persecute you because they know they can never compare to your greatness. You are the ray of light in the darkness of this cruel world." The woman kissed the boy's forehead. "You are too good for them. A day will come when the heavens will be your playground, and the four celestial guardians your protectors. Those who once bullied you will cower in awe at your power. When that day comes, Asato, you will never fear anyone again."

Tsuzuki was disturbed by her knowing smile. There was no way his mother could know his future - she was dead long before he became a Shinigami. No, this was not the mother he remembered.

This entire dream had to be Muraki's doing. Muraki once claimed he had insight into his imagination. This dream was a ploy to unsettle him with distorted memories of his past.

But to see his family before him, solid and real, was too precious an opportunity to pass up. He could not turn away from this dream just yet.

"So I will have friends?" the boy asked hopefully.

"Many, many friends. Look up." She tilted his jaw up. "Look past the moon. Look at the stars scattered across the heavens, too numerous for the eye to see. Seated in the heavens, the great spirits watch over you. They wait for you to summon them."

"But they are so far away. Will they be able to hear me?"

"They are all-powerful - of course they will hear. But you must call them by name, for their name is their power. Speak it aloud and they will be yours."

"What are their names? What do I call them?"

Her eyes were on Tsuzuki. "One day soon they will be revealed to you. When the time is right, you will claim what is rightfully yours."

The boy was unhappy with this. "But I want a friend now." He looked at Tsuzuki. "Will you be my friend?"

"Asato! Don't be so rude!

"He's not being rude." Tsuzuki smiled kindly at him. "I wish I could be your friend, but I live far away. But you have your mother and sister with you. They'll look after you, and you must do your best to look after them. They are your family. They are your flesh and blood. Having friends is all well and good, but you must never forget your family. Promise me you won't forget them."

_...the way I forgot mine._

"Okay." The boy held out his little finger. "Pinky promise."

Tsuzuki blinked, not understanding at first. "Ahh, okay. Pinky promise it is." He bent down and held out his little finger, and realised he wore velvet gloves with metal buckles.

"I promise never to forget my family." The boy hooked his little finger around Tsuzuki's much larger digit. "I promise this to you... What's your name?"

"My name?" It came out as a strangled squeak. "Ahh...my name isn't important."

"But everyone has a name." He looked at his mother for confirmation. "What's his name, Okaa-san?"

"If he prefers to keep his name secret, we should respect his wishes. There are some names too sacred to be spoken aloud by mortals."

"But everything must have a name." He frowned at Tsuzuki. "I will give you a name! You will be Gyokuto-sama!"

"Gyokuto-sama?" Tsuzuki laughed and scratched his head. "What kind of a name is that?"

"You visited me on the full moon. You came when I called 'Gyokuto-sama.' So that is your name!"

"But the real Gyokuto-sama is on the moon. You better check with him first, ne? He may not be happy about someone else using his name."

The boy looked up at the moon. He shook Tsuzuki's arm. "Look! Look! Gyokuto-sama, the moon!"

A golden glow was gone - a gauzy red mist shrouded the moon. Like a living entity nourished by blood, it grew in size. The stars swarmed around it to form twelve swirling clusters. Before his eyes, they coalesced to form silver threads twisting against the velvet background of the night sky.

First Muraki's eye, then in his mind's eye...and now in the heavens for everyone to see. In each of his dreams, this ominous symbol haunted him wherever he went.

"Living words..." the woman murmured.

Tsuzuki clenched his hands into fists. "Look away. It means nothing."

"That's untrue," the woman said. "It may mean nothing to a mere mortal, but to one with the eyes to see... Asato, this is a message from the heavens. Look up and try to memorise it all. This is a sign of the great destiny that awaits you!"

"No, it's not!" Tsuzuki turned on her. "It's a demonic curse! It's a contract! It's...it's..." He shook his head fiercely and whirled around. "Muraki! Muraki!"

"Okaa-san, what is 'Muraki'?"

"Hush. It may be a sacred invocation. We should not speak it without permission."

"Come out and explain yourself, dammit! I know you're here! Muraki!"

Lying in her mother's lap, the girl rubbed her eyes. "What's this noise?" She sat up when she saw Tsuzuki. "Okaa-san...who is this man?"

"You may not remember. He visited us after Otou-san passed away."

"His name is Gyokuto-sama," the boy told her proudly. "He flew down from the moon to visit me."

The rosebushes around them rustled, as if shaken by an imaginary gust of wind. The buds grew upwards and unfurled their petals, releasing their cloying fragrance to the moon in silent offering.

"I don't want your flowers! I don't want your gifts!" Tsuzuki unbuckled the gloves and threw them to the ground. "Reveal yourself to me! Explain the meaning of this!"

When a stray rosebud turned away from the moon to bloom towards him, Tsuzuki ripped off the petals. Within his fist, they withered into blackened ash.

"Who's the one hiding now? Who's the coward refusing to show his face?" Tsuzuki unclenched his fingers, letting them fall. When they each made contact with the soil, a tiny green shoot sprouted in its place. At his feet, the earth began to shake and tremble. Behind him the children shrieked in terror.

"Earthquake! Earthquake! Lie flat on the ground!" the mother shouted.

Jagged lines crisscrossed the surface of the red moon, reminding Tsuzuki of a hatching egg. _Something was breaking free..._

Tsuzuki snatched a barrier fuda and gave it to the woman. "Stay there! This will protect you!"

She stared at it, then at him. "What is it--"

It was too late. Tsuzuki was already ascending into the air with the ease of a soaring bird.

"About time you decided to show yourself! What type of powerful demon manipulates a human to do all his dirty work?"

"Nowww!" A voice rang out around him, piercing and high-pitched like a young girl's. "Nowww! Nowww!"

"Who is it? Who's there?"

"Nowww! Nowww! Ne-owww! Ne-owww!"

It sounded like no human voice Tsuzuki had ever heard before. "Now what? What is now?"

Something heavy pressed against his chest, squeezing him of breath. Intense white light poured forth from the lunar cracks. Tsuzuki squeezed his eyes shut against the glare. But there was no escaping the light - it pierced the darkness, sharp pinpricks of pain stabbing his eyes.

Tsuzuki cried out and covered his face.

* * *

The high-pitched yowl and the scratches over his fingers made him open his eyes. 

Lounging on his chest with regal arrogance, one front paw extended to defend itself, Muraki's dark grey cat glared down at him. "Meowww!"

Tsuzuki blinked. He was in Muraki's bedroom. Faint light shone through the curtains. Morning again.

Damn. He was so close to seeing the demon - he was sure of it. This was one nightmare he didn't want interrupted.

"You..." He cast a look beside him. Muraki lay on his back, eyes shut in slumber, silver hair falling carelessly off his forehead. Odd. Was he able to influence dreams in his sleep?

"Meoww!" The cat thumped his chest with a swish of its long tail.

"What? What is it?"

Satisfied it had Tsuzuki's attention, the cat leapt off him to land beside Muraki's head. It bent down to lick the ruby stud earring, then sat on its haunches, waiting. When nothing happened, it meowed loudly at Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki sat up. "You want him to wake up?"

The cat stepped away so Tsuzuki could look.

Dried blood stained Muraki's shoulder blade and the sheets. The bite mark gaped open, with blood slowly oozing forth.

Tsuzuki's heart sank. It must have reopened during the night.

The metal bracelet was cold and empty to the touch. Without Byakko's preserving power, Tsuzuki knew it was useless. He checked Muraki's cut palm. To his relief, it remained healed.

"Your demon is useless. He doesn't come to your aid. You don't even summon him. This covenant of yours is worthless...and you're a fool to uphold it."

The cat yowled and lashed its tail.

"What do you expect me to do?"

The cat bent forward to lick the bleeding wound.

"Hey!"

The cat hissed and reared up to scratch Tsuzuki's hand, then jumped to the floor and hissed again.

"He's already weak enough. All this time he's nourished and kept you alive, and this is how you repay him?"

The feline glared at him, then deliberately licked its paw and began cleaning itself. Muraki slept on in blissful ignorance.

Talking to a cat - he had to be mad. But it did seem to understand him. Belatedly Tsuzuki realised it may have been trying to help Muraki in its own feline way.

But Muraki was human. He needed bandages, disinfectant...maybe stitches. Things Tsuzuki knew nothing about.

"A doctor," Tsuzuki muttered. "That's it. I'll take him to a doctor."

The cat jumped up beside Muraki's head, this time holding the cigarette lighter in its mouth. It rubbed its cheek against the lighter, then licked Muraki's earring. It repeated this three times, then sat back, waiting.

The ruby glowed red for a moment, then winked out. The wound continued to ooze.

Tsuzuki blinked. Energy transference in action...

The animal repeated the ritual. It only transferred energy to Muraki's earring, not directly to the wound. It went to the trouble of keeping the lighter between its paws, taking care to avoid direct contact between it and Muraki's skin.

_But why couldn't Muraki directly absorb the elemental energy of Fire himself? Could it be..._

Tsuzuki bit his lip, thinking hard. _Of course..._

Fire was known to melt Metal. Their controlling relationship in the material world was mirrored in elemental magic. No wonder Muraki avoided the lighter. The cat must realise it too.

Last night Muraki proved he was Metal-dominant. White was the colour associated with Metal and Byakko, God of Metal and Wind. Muraki's preference for wearing white and his achromatic complexion were physical signs of the power he carried within him. He used Metal energy to create wards on the velvet gloves. And he chose to wear the Metal-blessed bracelet: confirmation of his dependence on this elemental power.

So why give Fire energy to the ruby earring? Ruby was not related to Fire, apart from its red colour. Ruby was a precious gemstone of Earthly origin.

But Muraki needed Metal to replace his depleted energy levels. During his time in Nagasaki he had expended too much of himself. The battle with Saagatanus, in which Muraki channelled power through him, must have been the most draining.

Tsuzuki touched Muraki's hair, gently fingering the silver strands. It was easier to touch Muraki in sleep, without the force of his domineering personality to distract him.

"I never asked for your energy," he whispered. "Never."

_You were the one who defeated him. I merely nourished what lies dormant inside you._

Nourishing him with the Metal energy he possessed...to generate a Water attack...

Tsuzuki exhaled sharply. Nourished! That was it!

Not a controlling relationship - a supporting relationship! Muraki had hinted at it all this time, and he'd missed it completely.

He knew material elements were bound by supporting relationships in which one element nourished another. By continuous renewal of one another, these elements ensured the survival of all living things. These relationships formed the generation cycle binding the elements together: Fire nourished Earth with its cleansing flames. Earth nourished Metal deep within its rocks...and Metal, with its soluble minerals, invigorated the Water flowing from mountains to the sea.

Fire. Earth. Metal...

This was exactly what the cat was doing now, but with elemental energy! Energy flowing from the Fire-blessed lighter, to the Earthly ruby and then the Metal-dependent Muraki - it obeyed the energy flow of the generation cycle.

"Is that why he wears the ruby earrings? To nourish the dormant Earth inside him...and generate the Metal he needs?"

The cat meowed and rubbed its head against Tsuzuki's hand, but he was too stunned to scratch its ears.

Elemental energy generation. The concept was staggering, shocking. The process of element generation occurred constantly in nature. But elemental _energy_ generation was forbidden knowledge...wasn't it?

In his initial shinigami training under Chief Konoe, Tsuzuki had been taught the dangers of generating one elemental energy from another. Beings of pure energy such as shikigami and demons did not generate new types of elemental energy. They worked exclusively with one type of elemental energy to minimise chaos - the ultimate enemy of all spirits. Energy disordered was energy lost, for it could never be harnessed again. For the same reason, shinigami did not generate new elemental energy either. Though they may be compatible with one or two elemental energies, they never learned how to generate new energy - they were only permitted to use their chosen energy type for a specific purpose.

Transforming one elemental energy type to another type greatly increased the level of disorder in the universe. Entropy was accelerated, leading to chaos - the death knell to all worlds, material and immaterial alike.

Elemental energy generation was the ultimate taboo.

Tsuzuki scrambled out of bed and paced the room. If he was correct, then this was more serious than anything he had imagined.

What was Muraki? He was still a member of the material world, wasn't he? A human who knew how to transform elemental energy...and depended on such energy for his survival.

Tsuzuki snorted to himself. Who was he kidding? No human could do this. No demon would dare either.

With his mind in turmoil, he went to the window and pulled the curtains aside. The early morning sun shone over the city of Nagasaki. The sky was clear, and the sea glittered in the distance. It was going to be a beautiful day.

"What do I do with him?" Tsuzuki covered his face in his hands. "What do I do?"

He had to stop Muraki, but how?

Scenes of their bloody confrontation at Shion University flashed through his mind, making him tremble. Violently he shook his head. No, he wouldn't let it happen again. He was weary of killing. He wanted to bring life, not merely stay the hand of death. Besides, JuOhCho had not seen it fit to issue a summons for Muraki yet. Until they did, he was supposed to live.

Tsuzuki cast a guilty look back at the bed, remembering the shoulder wound. Muraki's shoulder wound wasn't immediately life-threatening, but there was the danger of infection and blood poisoning. Healing him by nourishing his Metal with Earth would almost certainly work, but it would invoke the forbidden generation cycle...and increase universal disorder.

But it was already too late to worry about disorder. Muraki had already nourished the Metal energy within him so he could battle Saagatanus using Water. Dispersing Saagatanus's energy signature was a blatant act of destructive chaos...and Tsuzuki had no regrets. Even with the benefit of hindsight, he would have accepted Muraki's Metal energy again in a heartbeat. Saagatanus did not deserve anything from him, least of all his mercy.

As for what Muraki deserved...

A prickling sensation flashed over his shoulder blades for a second, then vanished.

Tsuzuki massaged one shoulder, thinking. Maybe Muraki wasn't Metal deficient after all. Could it be Muraki's Metal energy was weak? If so, Earth energy would help him more than Metal. Earth could strengthen and nourish the Metal energy within.

If he transferred Earth energy to Muraki, they would no longer in each other's debt.

Quickly he went to the lounge room. He returned, tearing the wrapping of the onyx pen to shreds.

The cat stepped aside as Tsuzuki sat by the side of the bed. Holding the pen in one hand, he held the ruby earring between the thumb and index finger of his other hand. It was time to put Muraki to the test.

He bowed his head and recited the spell:

_Enduring gatekeeper of all wisdom, courageous protector of the righteous - release the energy from this amulet._

He channelled the energy from the pen along his arm, across his shoulders, into his other arm and through his fingertips to the ruby earring. At once the jewel began to glow. The energy left him with speed of rain sinking into parched soil.

Tsuzuki increased the energy flow, pleased at the rapid uptake. The ruby he held grew bright, its radiance tainting Muraki's high cheekbone and wispy hair with a tinge of deep red. The same shade of red as the moon in his dream. Red, the colour of passion and life.

Muraki's brow furrowed a little. Maybe he sensed something...but it wasn't disturbing enough to awaken him. Good.

It proved difficult to channel energy through the earring to Muraki himself. Something impeded further energy flow - a barrier similar to the ones he set up with his fuda. Maybe these studs were a reservoir of energy that could only be tapped by the wearer. He channelled energy into the other ruby stud for good measure. The wound did not heal.

Tsuzuki peered closer at the wound. Muraki's acts of violence would never cause him permanent harm, yet a moment of anger on his part left an indelible mark on Muraki's fragile body - a gory reminder of his savagery.

He started when Muraki reached up to touch his cheek.

"Good morning, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki's gaze was heavy-lidded and slumberous like a sleepy feline. His fingers carded through Tsuzuki's overlong hair, playing with the fine hairs over the nape of his neck. "How are you?"

Pleasure skittered along Tsuzuki's spine. "I'm fine...but the wound on your shoulder has returned."

Muraki smiled and lifted his jaw, stretching the bite mark apart until it bled anew. "You know what you must do. Take my blood and drink it."

Why wasn't Muraki alarmed by the wound? Unless... "You did this! You...you undid the effects of the Metal energy. Why?"

Muraki silenced him with a finger over his lips. "I merely redirected the energy to where it was needed the most."

They both looked down as one. Muraki's morning erection was ready for action.

"Are you crazy? You don't need any more energy there, you pervert!"

"How else can I match your staying power? Your sexual stamina is like nothing I have encountered before."

"We don't have to do that anymore! I told you already, that's not why I'm here!"

"Hush. There may not be a need, but there is definitely a desire." Muraki pulled him into a gentle kiss. "You have such an expressive voice, Tsuzuki-san, and last night you used it to the full. Every word you said...each time you called my name...it was oil on the flames of my desire. When you begged me to continue, I felt the same way too - I never wanted it to end."

"I...I was drunk at the time..." But he knew he was lying - he didn't have a hangover headache. It took more than a bottle of wine to make him drunk, let alone tipsy.

"Drunk with lust," Muraki teased. "As I was too. But there are other draughts even more intoxicating." He tried to guide Tsuzuki to his shoulder. "Drink it. When you drink, you will understand."

"Stop it!" Tsuzuki took hold of one of the ruby studs. "You never take these off, do you? When did you first start wearing them?"

"Long enough. I've been thinking about changing them to amethyst, the exact shade of violet as your beautiful eyes."

Embarrassed pleasure made Tsuzuki blush. "Ruby is more rare and valuable. It is the crystalline blood of Earth - the ideal stone to support the Metal within you."

Muraki glared at the cat sitting on the rumpled sheets. The feline returned his gaze, and lashed its tail.

"I've transferred Genbu's Earth energy to your earrings. Draw on this to generate Metal energy. Use that to heal your wound."

Muraki's nostrils flared. "The only energy I am interested in is yours! Now it's your turn!" He grabbed Tsuzuki's head, pulling it down. "Now drink!"

Tsuzuki's face was trapped within the crook of Muraki's shoulder. Cold wetness slid against his cheek and jaw. The sickly sweet scent of human flesh tickled his nostrils. "Let go, you..." The rest of his words were muffled by fine silver hair.

"Why do you fight this? You think you can hide yourself from me? Now we have shared essence, there can be no turning back. Cast aside the remnants of the seal that binds you. The unveiling awaits!"

Blindly Tsuzuki fumbled for Muraki's throat, and followed it up the other side of Muraki's face until he found the ruby stud. He focused on projecting its stored Earth energy into Muraki. But there was too much resistance. Between his fingertips, the ruby began to heat up.

"Take it," he muttered between clenched teeth. "Take the energy and heal yourself! That's an order!"

Muraki grasped the back of Tsuzuki's head. "Then accept my blood. Drink from me. Only through communion can we become one."

The prickling sensation along his shoulder blades was back, this time worse than before. The scent of blood was everywhere, suffocating him.

He shook his head, panic-stricken. "Enough!" He shoved against Muraki's chest, squirming uselessly for freedom. He didn't want any more energy, blood, essence...anything. Muraki was the one who needed these things, not him. He groped for Muraki's erection. Drain him dry. Threaten his survival. Force him to call on Earth.

Muraki tensed. He wrenched Tsuzuki away by the roots of his hair.

"Muraki." Tsuzuki took great gulps of air. The scent of blood lingered in his nostrils. "Ahh..."

But Muraki looked furious. His earlobe was covered in blood, and the ruby stud shone with the intensity of a laser beam.

"What happened to-"

Muraki jack-knifed to a sitting position and roughly hurled Tsuzuki across the bed.

The cat jumped aside, but not fast enough. The two of them tumbled onto the floor with a series of noisy thumps.

"You dare reject me?" Muraki snarled. "Then I reject you!"

Tsuzuki swore and opened his eyes. The world spun crazily around him. He had a splitting headache, and his lower back ached - it had taken the brunt of the impact. At least the prickling sensation over his shoulders was gone. Apart from the backache, this felt remarkably like the hangover he deserved.

Damn Muraki. Why was he such a stubborn bastard? Tsuzuki imagined tightening his fingers around the long pale throat and throttling the life out of him.

But he couldn't. It would be an unequal contest, for Muraki didn't have the recuperative powers of a shinigami.

The cat scrambled over Tsuzuki and jumped on the bed. It yowled and hissed, tail lashing.

"Be silent! Once again you overstep your authority! Did I ask for your interference?"

The cat replied with a litany of yowling protests.

Slowly Tsuzuki came to his feet, using the back of his hand to wipe Muraki's blood from his cheek. He saw Muraki and his cat glaring at each other on the bed. The ruby stud adorning Muraki's bleeding earlobe remained aglow. The bite wound on his other shoulder glistened red...but it was a fraction of its previous size.

So it _was_ true. Elemental energy regeneration...and the ability to accelerate the downward spiral to chaos...

Human or not, how could Meifu ignore someone with such power?

Muraki reached up to touch the wound. His lips curled when he realised it was smaller than before. "Get out! Go beg at Enma's feet like the dog you are!"

Tsuzuki bowed his head, but he was unmoved by Muraki's fury. He was accustomed to Muraki's sudden shifts of mood. "Uhh...okay." He went to search for his clothes then remembered - he'd already sent them back to Meifu. He darted a glance at Muraki again. "I...I'm really glad your shoulder's better. If you use some of the energy in the other earring, I'm sure it will heal up completely. Your earlobe too." He grinned cheerfully. "Earth nourishes Metal, right?"

Muraki's expression was cold enough to turn water to ice.

Tsuzuki was acutely conscious of his nudity. _Idiot! Even wearing wet clothes was better than parading naked like this._ "You're right - I should get moving. I have a bad habit of turning up late to work. Make sure that wound heals up, okay? You're supposed to be a doctor - you should set a good example to your patients by looking after your own health."

Muraki removed the stud from his bleeding ear. When he dropped it on the nightstand, the cat leapt up to lick the blood from the earring. "What time will you come to me again?"

Tsuzuki's heart jumped. "It depends." He did his best to match Muraki's aloofness. "The early evening, maybe the afternoon if things are quiet."

"Very well." Muraki held his gaze, lips curving in a hint of a smile. "I will wait."

* * *

Turning up to work on time risked arousing more suspicions among his Shoukanka colleagues, so Tsuzuki set off for Watari's lab first. He found Watari sitting in front of his computer, 003 perched on his shoulder. 

"Hey, Tsuzuki!" Watari waved him over. "I've been doing more research on those numbers in your anagram."

"That's good. What have you found?"

"Remember how I mentioned numerology was important to the early Christians? Well, I've found this tradition was also important to the Bible writers. Many of the numbers that crop up again and again have a deeper symbolic meaning. Maybe that's the case with your anagram. The numerals it contains date back the Roman Empire, and the use of Latin for LUX is from the same era. So maybe the numerology system they used will explain the meaning behind your anagram!"

"Numbers with meaning...you think it's possible?"

"Well, why not? Demons use all kinds of ancient influences in their seals, huh? They reference many different cultures - I bet they do that to show off how knowledgeable they are. Demons are natural show-offs."

Tsuzuki went still. "Do you think a demon is responsible for my dream?"

"It's your dream. What do you think?" When Tsuzuki didn't answer, Watari added, "That's why you asked me for the list of demons the other day, ne?"

"Yeah." Tsuzuki smiled sheepishly. "Am I so easy to read?"

"Not at all!" Watari chuckled and slapped his shoulder. "As a scientist, observation is a speciality of mine." He brought up a file for Tsuzuki to read. "I compared the numbers in your anagram with a database on the Biblical numerology. And look what I found for the number 3!"

Tsuzuki bent forward for a closer look. "Three...is the Holy Spirit?" He reached for the mouse to view more of the document, but Watari grabbed it first.

"Yes! In Judaism and Christianity, the Holy Spirit provides sustenance and comfort, much like the Earth Mother archetype in ancient cultures. It's associated with abundance and generosity and food. This meaning is also depicted in the third Hebrew character Gimel." He pointed to three squiggly lines on the screen. "It shows a rich man running to give alms to the poor - a cheerful giver eager to share his bounty with others. Cute, huh? See the resemblance?"

Tsuzuki tilted his head, trying to make it out. "Hmmph. It looks as good as your stick drawings."

They both laughed at the jibe. But inside, Tsuzuki was reeling.

_Feed me. Nourish me._

"Watari..." He cleared his throat, suddenly serious. "This doesn't sound like any demon I know."

"Me neither." Watari stroked his chin. "But remember, demons can appear generous when they are after something they want very much. That's how they lure humans into contracts, right?"

"That's true. So what does 22 represent?"

"Aha! Now this is where it gets interesting." With a couple of mouse-clicks, Watari brought up another file. "The 22nd and last letter of the Hebrew alphabet is Tav - meaning mark, sign or cross. It refers to the impression branded on the thigh or neck of animals that identified them as property."

"Like a seal." Tsuzuki's voice was flat. It wasn't a question.

"Exactly! Now a seal is a stylised identification mark. It contains information on identity, authority...and some reference to one's greatness and longevity." Watari shrugged at Tsuzuki's snort. "There's an ego-trip aspect to having one. But when I read this, it made me wonder if your anagram could be a seal. Seals were used in the Bible as a form of protection. Righteous people were marked with a seal on their foreheads to spare them from the wrath of God."

"Not only the righteous," Tsuzuki added. "Have you heard of the 'mark of Cain'?"

"Hmm. The name sounds familiar." He reached for his keyboard. "Let me look it up."

"In Genesis, Cain, a son of Adam, killed his brother out of jealousy. God punished Cain by branding his forehead with a sign of his terrible crime."

"Well..." Watari blinked. "Seems like I'm not the only one who's been reading."

"Only a few passages here and there. I had a few more leads I wanted to follow up." Tsuzuki took out the Bible and slid it on the desk.

"That's where it was! I thought I'd lost it!"

"No, it was me," Tsuzuki said quietly. "Sorry for taking it yesterday, but I was in a hurry."

"No problem, no problem." Watari took hold of it and placed it to one side. "That was tricky of you! I was so worried about getting in trouble with the Gushoshin. You know how strict they can be." He stopped when he saw Tsuzuki's seriousness. "You didn't look well when you left yesterday. Are you better now?"

"Much better." Tsuzuki smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "There's no need to worry."

"But everyone _is_ worried. You haven't been yourself lately. We don't see much of you at the Shoukanka, and when you're here you seem preoccupied with something else. Bon has been pestering Tatsumi for information, but he's keeping tight-lipped. Yesterday Chief Konoe was rushing back and forth between here and EnmaDaiOh's Court." He looked around, then leaned towards Tsuzuki. "I heard about Saagatanus," he whispered. "He had it coming to him."

Tsuzuki stiffened. "Who told you?"

"Don't worry. No one here. The other Shinigami have been kept in the dark."

"Then how do you know?"

Watari's expression became sly. "As long as people gossip, no secret can remain hidden from me for long. Research is the art of information gathering." He caressed his keyboard. "That's another of my specialities."

003 hooted and fluffed her wings in agreement.

"That's why I asked for your help in the first place." Tsuzuki's expression was contemplative for a moment. "Despite spending most of your time stuck in the laboratory, nothing escapes your attention."

"Why, thank you! But you know, successfully binding a demon is no small feat either. As for destroying one...well, that's nothing short of a miracle. How did you do it?"

"I didn't."

"You're being way too modest. If it wasn't you, who else could it be?"

Tsuzuki paused. "Entropy," he murmured to himself. "Chaos. The greatest killer of all."

"Entropy? Chaos?" Watari sat back in his seat, eyes wide as saucers. "Hey, have you been holding out on me all this time? You never took an interest in my scientific research, and now out of the blue you refer to the second law of thermodynamics - the tendency for disorder to increase in a closed system!" He laughed and hit Tsuzuki on the back, jolting him out of his reverie. "This isn't the Tsuzuki I know! What's got into you lately?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." Tsuzuki managed a weak laugh. "Entropy's reach extends far beyond the material world. Meifu and the virtual world of Gensoukai are not immune from its effects. Even an idiot like me knows this."

He weighed up the risks of telling Watari more. He needed someone with a high security clearance to access information from the JuOhCho supercomputer. Watari was the best person for the job - he was a lot easier to deal with than the pedantic Gushoshin brothers. As for the likelihood of Watari informing Chief Konoe... it was a risk he would have to take. Muraki's catastrophic potential needed to be halted before it spiralled out of control.

_You have been given considerable leeway by the administration, Tsuzuki. Your leash remains lax as long as you stay within its reach._

He touched his unbuttoned collar. It would be all right. He had a stiff neck.

"Watari, do you know why the virtual world of Gensoukai was created? Do you know why shikigami chose to reside there?"

Watari looked surprised. "Sure. With the advances in science and technology since the Industrial Revolution, humans have taken charge of their lives. Many of them abandoned the old superstitions and worship rituals - they no longer called on shikigami to intervene in their problems. Children were taught the physical laws governing the universe instead of the names of hundreds of spirits. Feeling redundant in the modern world, the shikigami decided to recreate a paradise world in which they could exist in peace and harmony on their own terms."

Tsuzuki rested his jaw in one hand. "That's part of the reason. Humans became more adept at manipulating the elements than any other living creature. They prospered and flourished, but at a price. The air and sea became polluted. The forests were cleared, altering the landscape beyond recognition. Many animal and plants species died out. The shikigami were concerned by these changes. They came to the conclusion that the unrestrained use of their elemental powers combined with humanity's technological progress would lead to further destruction and suffering. So they chose to withdraw from the material world and reside in the virtual world of Gensoukai for the good of humanity."

"Did they say that? Hah! Humans have done just fine without them anyway." Watari put his hands behind his head and sighed. "Imagine the existence they must have now. It must be a lot easier for them in Gensoukai. No prayers to answer. No constant summoning. Much like a permanent vacation. A nice living if you can get it."

A flash of irritation flitted over Tsuzuki's face. "Have you ever had the chance to visit Gensoukai?"

"No way! I'm too busy with my experiments! Why do I need to go there? Not everyone is as gifted as you in negotiating a contract with a shikigami. Look at poor Terazuma."

"He offended his shikigami with his bad temper and rudeness. But your temperament is nothing like that. I'm sure if you wanted to find one, you wouldn't have the same trouble he did."

Watari chuckled. "Thanks but no thanks. I'm not interested in a shikigami. I believe in using my own ingenuity and skill - that's why I decided on a low-level power that brings my drafts and sketches to life!" He grabbed a sheet of paper and scribbled on it. Moments later, he pulled out a small leather-bound Bible, an exact replica of the one already on the desk, and handed it to Tsuzuki. "I don't need to be strong using a shikigami's power. Knowledge is all the power I need."

Tsuzuki flicked through the pages - even the print was identical. "Thanks, Watari. But not all of us are as intelligent as you."

"You're being modest again, Tsuzuki." Watari clicked his tongue. "You don't have to be, especially after defeating a demon like Saagatanus! Now don't change the topic - tell me what happened!"

"I didn't defeat him. If I knew how, I would have destroyed him during the Minase Hijiri investigation instead of waiting all these years." He placed the Bible in his coat pocket.

"So you asked someone - or something - else to do it for you." When Tsuzuki looked up sharply, Watari simply smiled. "Just a logical deduction."

"Another speciality, huh?" Tsuzuki didn't smile back. He reached in his pocket and dropped a clear plastic bag on Watari's desk. "Here."

Watari held it to the light. His eyes narrowed when he noticed the colour. "Tsuzuki...this hair..."

"Please use your scientific knowledge to analyse this. I need to know if the owner of this sample is deficient in nutrients, particularly minerals. Can you compare it with the sample you have from the Shion University case?"

"I should be able to...but why minerals?"

"I know you have other responsibilities, but please do this for me. I am depending on you, Watari. I promise I will explain later." Tsuzuki stood up, making the chair jerk back with a loud scrape on the floor.

"But Tsuzuki, you can't just throw this at me without an explanation--"

"Why do you need me to explain anything?" Tsuzuki retorted, his patience wearing thin. "You're the specialised know-it-all, Watari. You figure it out."

There was a brisk knock, followed by the door swinging open. Watari dropped his hand to the desk, concealing the bag. Tsuzuki turned around, his heart thumping in dread.

It was Tatsumi - folder in one hand, briefcase in the other - looking every inch the officious secretary.

"Good morning." He nodded, unsmiling. "Forgive me for interrupting your conversation. Tsuzuki-san, may I see you when you're finished?"

Tsuzuki pulled his coat around him. "I was about to leave anyway." He gave a tiny shake of his head to Watari's imploring look. When Tatsumi was in one of his grim no-nonsense moods, he didn't take no for an answer. "I'll join you right now."

* * *

**Notes:**  
1. Houyi, Chang'E and the Jade Hare on the moon comes from an old Chinese myth. There's also a single reference to the Jade Hare in a Hanayume installment of Gensoukai arc (or was it Kamakura?).  
2. The information about Biblical numerology comes from The Bible Wheel website. 

Use Google if you'd like to learn more. Annoyingly enough, I can't paste URLs into chapters. Arrgh!


	20. Confession

Thanks to Gengkotsuya for her help. And thanks for all the feedback, both positive and negative. I'm always glad to know people read, and it's an honour to know that the words generate some kind of reaction.

* * *

A red and white gingham tablecloth covered one of the outdoor tables beneath the sakura trees. Encased in a perfect dome of golden-brown pastry sat a large apple pie. It was surrounded by a teapot, sugar bowl, milk jug, teacups and saucers for two.

Tsuzuki's mouth began to water - a reflex response to his favourite dish. The knot of tension in his stomach eased a little. "Mmm. It smells like it's just come out of the oven!"

"I baked it this morning." Tatsumi smiled. "We haven't talked lately, and I noticed you haven't been eating as much. I thought this morning tea might rectify both."

"I'd love to have morning tea...but what about the others? Watari will enjoy this, Hisoka too."

"They can join us another time. Neither of them appreciates apple pie the way you do. Take a seat."

Tsuzuki rested his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his hands. He didn't ask if he could help - he already knew how Tatsumi's perfectionist tendencies extended to domestic tasks.

Tatsumi sliced the pie and pour the tea. Sunlight crowned his neat brown hair with red and gold highlights. His hands moved with a quick economy, as focused and disciplined as his sober temperament.

Watching him evoked a bittersweet nostalgia. How many times had they sat together beneath the sakura, Tatsumi serving him tea? This simple ritual had begun during their brief partnership. It formed a tenuous link during the decades of awkward estrangement. Now they had come full circle, and were friends once more. It was as if the bad times had never taken place.

_But in Meifu things are different, ne? Nothing dies. Nothing changes. Nothing evolves. Everything is frozen in stasis for eternity..._

Tsuzuki shielded his eyes against the sun to see the branches covered in pink blossoms, flowering without end. Entropy slowed to a crawl in Meifu. There was little if any disorder here. The energy required to maintain such stability must be considerable.

"Your pie, Tsuzuki-san."

"Ah, thanks." He ate a mouthful. "Delicious!"

"I'm pleased it meets with your approval."

"You always were talented in the kitchen." Tsuzuki swallowed, and quickly scooped another piece into his mouth. "One day you must teach me the recipe."

"Perhaps. But remember, I charge a very high price for my services."

"I remember! You once charged me ten thousand yen for a juuman noodle soup recipe! At prices that steep, I'm better off grabbing dinner at your place."

"You do that already." Tatsumi took a sip of tea, his expression deadpan. "I deduct the cost of each meal from your salary, of course."

"Aha! That's why I'm too poor to buy my own food! So I end up even more dependent on your hospitality, which only pushes me further into debt." His eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle. "You'll never get rid of me if you keep this up. I'll eat you out of house and home!"

"Would that be such a terrible thing?" Tatsumi was perfectly serious.

Tsuzuki's fork hovered in mid-air over his pie. "No, not at all. Well, not for me, anyway. You're a great cook, and you know how I love to eat."

"Indeed I do." Tatsumi let out a soft snort of amusement.

"But what I meant was...no one can remain a child forever." Tsuzuki's voice was soft, wistful. "Sooner or later, everyone has to learn to take responsibility for themselves, right?"

Tatsumi didn't say a word. His gaze remained fixed on his cup and saucer.

Tsuzuki looked down at his plate. "If we never do that - if we never take the plunge - then we'll never grow up. We'll end up being mice on a treadmill, repeating the same mistakes over and over...and leaving others to pick up the pieces every time." He scooped up a morsel of pie. "It's not fair to them, is it?"

Tatsumi took a sip of tea. "Such is the nature of a strong friendship. Good friends support each other in times of crisis. They compensate for each other's faults and lift each other's spirits. They wouldn't deserve the title otherwise."

"Yeah...but friendship can also be stretched too far. At some point, self-preservation must take priority." Tsuzuki placed the fork down, and propped his elbows on the table. "An unequal friendship in which one friend is always bailing the other out of trouble cannot last. Why should anyone be expected to stay friends with another person who is only a burden to them?"

Piercing blue eyes narrowed. "Not all people form friendships out of cold-blooded self-interest, Tsuzuki-san."

"I know they don't. A relationship motivated purely by self-interest won't last long either. But self-interest isn't a dirty word. After all, how can you care for others if you end up neglecting yourself? You must be your own best friend before you can be a friend to others--"

Something caught Tsuzuki's spiritual awareness - a disturbing sense they were being watched. He cast a surreptitious look around. The floating petals amid the tree trunks made it difficult for him to spot an eavesdropper.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No. I thought I heard someone calling me."

"Did you?" Tatsumi's surprise appeared genuine. "I didn't hear anything."

"Never mind." Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. "I must have imagined it."

"I'm not surprised. You've been unsettled lately. You aren't your usual carefree and cheerful self. Have you been getting adequate sleep? You once mentioned having disturbing dreams..."

"Hey! You're the one who complains the most about my late arrivals. I can't believe you're worried about my sleep! Keep this up, and everyone will think you're getting soft as Shoukanka secretary."

"I've never cared much for the opinions of others," Tatsumi replied evenly. "Would you prefer not to answer the question?"

The gentle rustle of sakura petals filled the tense silence.

"My sleep is fine, and my dreams unremarkable." Tsuzuki picked up his fork, and deliberately placed a morsel of warm apple pie in his mouth. "How are your nightly kagetsu lessons with Hisoka progressing?"

"Kurosaki-kun is a keen student, but he's frustrated at his progress. With the impatience of youth, he expects to run before he can walk."

"Have you shared your power with him?"

Tatsumi blinked, but quickly recovered himself. "What for? There's no need--"

"Then you should." Tsuzuki's tone was brisk. "Let him experience kagetsu firsthand. Give him a taste of what he could have in the future if he applies himself to his training now. If he has a definite goal to aim for, he will develop motivation to persevere."

"Tsuzuki-san, please remember that you and no one else can be his partner. You were the first to befriend him. Deep down, he cares for you very much." Tatsumi reached for his hand. "Always remember that."

The warm touch radiated kindness and reassurance - a tactile embodiment of Tatsumi's fiercely protective nature.

Tsuzuki looked down at their joined hands. Once he would have moved closer, attracted by the cloaking security of his kagetsu. Now, not a flicker. Not even a lingering reminder of their old affair.

"Thank you, Tatsumi. I couldn't have a better friend than you."

All he felt was benign fondness...and deep inside, a seed of doubt planted by Muraki's cryptic words.

_A dark power so impenetrable it could nullify a shikigami's pure energy..._

Tsuzuki placed his other hand atop Tatsumi's and turned it palm up. Thick shadows lined the folds and recesses of Tatsumi's palm, but they melted away in the dappled morning sunlight. These were no normal shadows. Imbued with kagetsu power, the shadows around Tatsumi thickened and thinned of their own accord. These subtle shifts in light and shade were easily missed by a casual observer, and Tatsumi knew how to keep them in check - a tribute to his skill as a kagetsu user.

"Tsuzuki-san...what are you...?"

Tsuzuki brought it closer to his face. Once he craved the kagetsu darkness, blindly seeking its comfort like a newborn longing for the womb.

The shadow wisps coalesced to cup his chin, then dissipated like thin smoke.

Cordial, yet reserved. Considerable power held under firm restraint. Tsuzuki couldn't feel it draining his own energy. The dark power that consumed all others within itself - it wasn't here in Tatsumi's hands.

A gust of wind shook the trees. Dappled light danced around them. The shadows cast by the overhead branches came to life. The shadows residing within Tatsumi's palm trembled in sympathy. They began to sway, enlivened by the motion of their larger siblings.

Tsuzuki lifted his head. The kagetsu power was no longer confined to Tatsumi's hand. He could feel the palpable presence of darkness shifting around, stronger than before.

Tatsumi clenched his fingers, and the shadow power retreated with him. His lips compressed in a tight line.

"Sorry." Tsuzuki released him at once. "You always took good care of me, Tatsumi - more care than I deserve."

"No thanks is necessary, Tsuzuki-san," Tatsumi replied gruffly. "It is part of my job as Shoukanka secretary to look after the welfare of all shinigami."

"But not at a cost to your sanity. You weren't secretary when we were partners. No, this is simply the type of person you are - responsible and caring. I know how you endangered yourself to work by my side. You tried to help me when I was down, and nearly drove yourself to a breakdown. All I gave you was suffering and anguish. I knew how it hurt you...but I was too selfish to push you away. When you broke off our partnership, a part of me was happy for you. I knew you were doing the right thing. For once in your life, you put yourself first. That doesn't make you any less of a friend.

"I was the bad friend all along, Tatsumi, not you."

Tatsumi didn't say a word.

Tsuzuki smiled sadly. "And I still am, you know. If you hadn't used your kagetsu powers in the Shion University fire, Hisoka would surely be dead. I wasn't about to call off Touda, even for him. I welcomed Hisoka with open arms. Again, I was too selfish to push him away. In my vanity, I wanted him to share my punishment. I wanted him to join me in the suffocating embrace of death..."

Tatsumi's cup clattered in its saucer. "Tsuzuki-san, why do you keep torturing yourself about the past? These mistakes happen - we all understand. You must focus on the important fact: you and Kurosaki-kun survived the ordeal together! You can become a good friend and partner to Kurosaki-kun if you change your ways. You should be checking on his progress and guiding him as the senior partner...not pursuing a dream that can only lead to disaster!"

Tsuzuki froze, his face pale. "What do you mean by that?"

"Your goose chase in Nagasaki! Are you so blinded by guilt you can't see your foolishness?" Tatsumi leaned closer to speak. "No human could have survived that fire."

"Hisoka told me Muraki was saved by a terrible light--"

"And that gives you hope? Suppose your hypothesis about Muraki being under contract is correct. By this reasoning, the light must therefore originate from the demon who wrote the contract. Tell me this: what would usually happen to a person who failed the terms of a demonic contract?"

"In most cases, the demon takes possession of their soul. But a demon normally provides some form of assistance to the contract holder--"

"And what is the typical outcome for fulfilling the terms of a demonic contract?"

"It depends on the particular contract..." Tsuzuki began.

"But the most common one is possession of one's soul, correct? Ultimately, demons feed on the souls of humans foolish enough to sign a contract. If Muraki was under a contract, then that destructive fire would have brought it to a conclusion one way or the other."

"But it's definitely him! I've seen him with my own eyes! I heard his voice! My spiritual sense tells me he's not an illusion--"

"I'm not saying he's an illusion." Tatsumi looked towards the dojo in the distance. "I notice Kurosaki-kun's curse marks are less visible than before."

"So you saw it too. Has he said anything about it?"

"Not to me. But you know what it means." Tatsumi was remorseless in driving the point home. "The Muraki you once knew is no more."

Tsuzuki's fingers clenched the handle of the teacup until his knuckles went white. His rational mind understood the logic of Tatsumi's words all too well. No human could know about regenerating energy. No human could summon demons with a wave of his hand.

Yet listening to Tatsumi crush his hope with such callous indifference make him ill.

Deep down, a part of him refused to believe. The welter of physical memories couldn't be denied: the thin lips he kissed, the pale skin he caressed and scratched and bit, the cock he welcomed inside him each night...the blood and tears and semen he'd tasted. Compelling evidence of Muraki's humanity...

How could it not be Muraki? Who else could it be?

What demonic power knew how to manufacture a doppelganger convincing enough to trick his spiritual and physical senses?

...and his heart?

"It doesn't matter," Tsuzuki said woodenly. "Whoever he is...whatever he's become...I need to know."

Tatsumi pushed his glasses up his nose. "This double in Nagasaki - tell me what you've learnt about him."

The real reason for the morning tea. So Tsuzuki told him what he knew. Muraki was on holiday in Nagasaki, living alone in his sterile penthouse apartment with a pet cat. He carried no identification or cellphone, but he did carry a pistol. He became wary around black limousines.

"I believe he's in hiding from some criminal figures he's associated with in the past. Perhaps an operation went wrong, and these people want vengeance. I'm still trying to work it out."

"Interesting, but not of relevance to our bureau. What about his occult powers? Has he found new victims to prey on? Is he linked to any recent deaths?"

"No, not that I know. There have been no unusual deaths. From my observations, I believe he's not using his occult powers on any of the citizens of Nagasaki." Which was technically true.

He kept the details about the nature of their encounters to himself. He didn't want Tatsumi's well-meaning interference forcing Muraki into retreat.

"Apart from the firearm, he sounds like a model citizen." Tatsumi lifted a brow. "It sounds too good to be true. Maybe you've missed something in your investigation...or you've allowed yourself to be distracted from your surveillance. Keeping a close eye on a suspect means precisely that. Closer involvement only interferes with one's objectivity."

A guilty flush coloured Tsuzuki's cheeks, but he refused to be shamed. "I've done what's necessary for my investigation. I've been an active shinigami long enough to know how to do my job."

"If that's the case, you wouldn't need me to remind you of your responsibilities. You serve the JuOhCho administration overseen by EnmaDaiOh himself. Do I need to remind you of the consequences of abusing your powers?" He leaned forward, his gaze beseeching. "Whatever you do, you must keep in mind your position in this organisation!"

First Konoe, now Tatsumi pulling the leash. And the memory of Muraki's mocking taunts about his position only chafed the wound.

_Go beg at Enma's feet like the dog you are!_

"I know where I stand, Tatsumi. How can I forget it?" His tone was heavy with irony. "Haven't I been doing exactly the same job for the past seventy four years?"

Tatsumi blinked. "Are you saying you are unhappy with your position in EnmaCho?"

"Me, unhappy here?" Tsuzuki looked at him for a long brooding moment, then let out a loud laugh. "Of course not. I'm surrounded by friends at work - well, Terazuma excepted. And I have a superior who's a great cook and treats me to delicious morning teas and dinners!"

"Tsuzuki-san..." Concern touched Tatsumi's voice.

"Take a look at how beautiful this place is!" Tsuzuki waved his arm at the scenery around them. "When the sakura flowers fall, new ones always take their place! Nothing dies here, not even a blade of grass! Meifu is an eternal Garden of Eden! What kind of fool would be miserable in such a paradise?"

"A bigger fool than you, I hope."

Tsuzuki simply smiled and went back to eating, oddly relieved by Tatsumi's sardonic tone. It was easier to deal with a rebuke from a cold boss than lukewarm pity from the friend-lover who rejected him so many years ago.

Even a dog had its pride.

* * *

A safe distance away, Hisoka watched them from behind the trunk of a sakura tree. He saw Tatsumi indulging Tsuzuki with morning tea. He saw Tsuzuki laugh and lap up the attention. They held hands, their heads close together as they spoke words meant for the other alone. Despite his years as a shinigami, Hisoka had never achieved that kind of comfortable intimacy with them. With anyone.

How relaxed they appeared in each other's company. It seemed rude to interrupt them or intrude with his empathic powers. With the evidence of his normal senses, he already knew enough.

Tsuzuki didn't trust him with his problems. Tsuzuki preferred to leave him in the dark - exactly the same course of action he took in their Kyoto investigation. Their partnership was a sham, as false as Tsuzuki's guise of breezy good cheer.

Hisoka knew something was wrong. Two days ago during morning tea, he'd sensed something strange from Tsuzuki - a powerful yearning hunger that took him by surprise. It wasn't the burst of juvenile glee Tsuzuki displayed when devouring sweets. This emotion was more measured, quickly smothered by oppressive shame.

The "King of Sweets" ashamed of his appetite? It wasn't the Tsuzuki he knew.

But whatever the reason, this emotion had been strong enough to break through the shields Hisoka routinely placed around his empathic powers.

Hisoka didn't understand. He was a powerful empath, but a lousy psychologist. The fluctuating emotional waves of other people baffled him. But he knew Tatsumi, older and wiser and more experienced with Tsuzuki's moods, could make sense of it. Tatsumi knew how to support Tsuzuki in ways he never could.

But where did that leave him as Tsuzuki's eternally-teenaged partner? Would he never be able to give Tsuzuki the emotional support he needed?

An idea snaked into his mind, insistent and insidious. Maybe that's why Tatsumi had been so nice lately - inviting him to dinner, lending him books, even teaching him kagetsu. Giving him special treatment...so he wouldn't be another burden weighing Tsuzuki down...

Hisoka whirled around and strode away, the kagetsu book a lead weight in his arms. He'd done enough study these past few days. He took a path through the sakura trees leading to the dojo. This morning he wanted to wield his katana and practise his swordsmanship skills. If he couldn't help lift Tsuzuki's spirits, then he'd do his best to be less of a liability during their next assignment.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he did not notice the gust of wind lifting up the petals around him, making the branches tremble and creak. Silent shadows shifted over his downbent head, vainly seeking to catch his attention.

Useless to his family, proud descendants of a samurai clan. Useless here in the afterlife. Everywhere he went, he was useless. He looked down at his pale gangly arms, destined never to develop a man's solid musculature.

Even his body was useless.

Annoyed with himself, he lowered his head against the wind and began to walk faster.

Halfway to the dojo, the air became still. The leaves stopped rustling.

It took Hisoka several seconds to become aware of the eerie silence. Beneath a maple tree, he stopped walking and looked around.

A few yards ahead, a lone man walked through the gardens. Dressed like a samurai warrior, he wore an iridescent armour with heavy shoulder guards and a close-fitting tunic decorated with serpentine scales that changed colour from deep green to blue as it caught the light. His long black hair flowed freely behind his back and over his shoulders, unencumbered by a helmet. But he did not march like a soldier. He walked with a deliberate regal grace, his only companion his elongated shadow trailing behind him.

Everything else was motionless. The air was still. Leaves hung suspended around him. He walked past them, indifferent to the frozen tableau.

Hisoka had never seen him before. Who was he? What kind of power was this?

The man turned his head in Hisoka's direction. Long hair shadowed his upper face, obscuring his eyes.

Quickly Hisoka gave a low bow to show proper respect. Whoever this person was, he was someone of importance in Meifu.

A gust of wind blew leaves into his face. By the time he could see again, he heard the trees rustling around him. The wind tousled his hair and whipped his clothes.

The mysterious man was gone.

* * *

The mountains of Gensoukai were Genbu's favourite stamping ground.

None of the other shikigami appreciated his efforts to invigorate the earth. Tenkuu complained that the tremors weakened his foundations. Souryuu reminded him that their virtual world no longer depended on Earth energy - or any other elemental energy. A free-floating world within the vast JuOhCho computer network did not require shikigami intervention for its survival.

But Genbu knew better. Virtual world or not, the soil needed to be nourished to support all the creatures of Gensoukai. Without Earth, there could be no life. As the shikigami governing Earth, he knew he had much work to do.

With the aid of a granite staff, he scuttled up the summit in his human form. His bald head was elongated, with a high forehead covered in wrinkles - signs of his wisdom and experience. Hairy eyebrows drooped over beady black eyes. His grey moustache and beard flowed almost to his feet. At full height, he was half the size of a normal man.

Genbu knew his appearance did not inspire the same awe as that of the younger shikigami. But he had never cared for the trappings of power. The power he wielded had nothing to do with his size. His compact form ensured he caused minimal damage to the precious ground he treaded and enabled him to fit easily into the crevices of the earth while climbing.

The summit rocks were warm from the afternoon sun. Genbu seated himself on the highest one, his hands propped on the staff. Here was peace and quiet, with the lush green forests of Gensoukai spread before him as far as the eye could see.

He sighed to himself. Once upon a time, the Earth looked exactly like this.

He lifted his staff and stabbed the earth once. A small tremor shook the mountain, making him smile. Just like old times...

"Yo, Genbu Ojiisan! I knew I'd find you here! You're not sleeping on the job, are you?"

Byakko swooped over his head, paws outstretched in full flight, white fur shimmering in the sunlight. Tsuzuki clung to his back, waving his arm in greeting.

"Sleeping? Of course not!"

"Thanks, Byakko! I never would have found him without your help!"

Byakko pounced on a nearby rock to let Tsuzuki dismount. "No problem." He shook his head at Genbu. "Souryuu expects you to watch for wormholes, remember? You sure you can see anything behind all that hair?"

"It takes more than sight to see. Wormholes are not the only threat to Gensoukai. The primordial Earth energy must be nourished." Genbu stabbed his staff once more, setting off another small tremor.

Byakko jumped into the air, hissing in annoyance. "Is that all you ever think about?"

"I remember my responsibilities as God of Earth!"

"You think I don't?" Byakko swished his tail vigorously, creating a gust of wind. "As God of Wind and Metal--"

"Okay, okay!" Tsuzuki stepped between them, arms outstretched to keep them apart. "Thank you, Byakko, for bringing me here." He winked. "I'll make sure Genbu doesn't slack off."

"I'll leave it to you, Tsuzuki." With a lash of his tail and a parting gust of wind, Byakko soared away.

Tsuzuki shrugged out of his trenchcoat and laid it on the rocks. He sat beside Genbu. "This is a nice vantage point you have here. Are the wormholes still a problem?"

Genbu stabbed the ground and the earth shook again. "They are increasing in frequency. A few shikigami have been accidentally transported to different dimensions. Souryuu fears they herald the end of this world." He snorted, blowing the hairs of his moustache.

"Ahh, I remember finding one lost in the land of the living. Byakko told me a wormhole was the most likely cause." He glanced at Genbu's wizened features. "You don't think they're a threat to Gensoukai?"

"They are created by human hearts calling out for divine intervention. Our names have been forgotten, but the memory of our deeds remain. Humans call out for us in their dreams, in the recesses of their subconscious. But without our names, without proper respect for our authority, how can we answer them? So their tortured cries only distort this world, creating the wormholes."

"Have you told Souryuu all this?"

"He doesn't believe me. He wants 'evidence.'" Genbu snorted once more. "He has forgotten the many ways prayers manifest themselves to a God. It has been too long for all of us. But I remember. I haven't forgotten. The earth whispers to me constantly - I feel it in my bones." He put down his staff, and tilted his head sideways to look at Tsuzuki. "But this is not the reason for your visit, ne?"

"No," Tsuzuki admitted. He rested his elbows on his knees so he could see Genbu eye to eye. "I've come to seek your advice on a...a confidential matter."

Genbu puffed his chest out, pleased at being consulted. "Ask and I will advise."

"I..." He shook his head and pulled his fingers through his hair. "Where do I start?" He shook his head, chuckling. "Now that I've finally gathered the nerve to come here, I don't know where to start."

"At the beginning," Genbu suggested.

Tsuzuki let out a hysterical laugh. The idea first entered his head when he saw Muraki utilise the regeneration cycle. But it was Tatsumi's morning tea that made him come to this decision.

If Muraki's human soul was lost to a demon, and JuOhCho remained indifferent to his fate...then why should they care what anyone else did with him?

"Okay, okay. The beginning."

Tsuzuki did his best to gather his thoughts...and blurted out the crazy scheme that brought him here:

"I think I know a demon trapped in human form who needs a secure home. Is there any spare room in Gensoukai?"

Genbu's shaggy brows lifted halfway up his forehead. Beneath them, his beady black eyes were alive with interest.

Balanced on a tightrope between hope and despair, Tsuzuki waited.

Genbu picked up his staff. Instead of stabbing the ground, he handed it to Tsuzuki.

"Tenkuu has dungeons ideal for sealing away the most rebellious spirit. Tell me more."

Tsuzuki placed the staff in front of him, holding tight to the serpent head decorating the handle. Taking a deep breath in, he told Genbu about Muraki - their first meeting, the curse he'd put on Hisoka, the events in Kyoto. He explained the dreams, their meetings in Nagasaki - everything. The words tumbled out of him, jumbled and disjointed, fact and guesswork tangled together.

It was safe to tell Genbu. Genbu was one of his shikigami, privy to his shifting emotional state. Oldest of the twelve, he was not hot-tempered or impulsive like the others.

Genbu stroked his beard. If Muraki's ability to use the regeneration cycle surprised him, he did not show it.

"Based on what I've told you, what do you think he is?" Tsuzuki asked at last. "Human or demon?"

"Neither."

"Huh? Are you sure?"

"This Muraki you describe is a chimera. He contains some characteristics of each, and a few that belong to neither." He looked up at Tsuzuki, dark eyes twinkling. "Hence your confusion. A master of twelve shikigami should not doubt his ability to identify spirits. Trust your intuition - your spiritual sense is your best guide."

"So...is it true what he says about an occult type of elemental magic that threatens shikigami?"

"No, not at the moment."

"Not at the moment? So you mean that in the future--"

"It would be irresponsible of me to claim my answer is true for all eternity," Genbu said. "I am the keeper of wisdom, not a tawdry fortune teller. But there is certainly no such magic in existence within Gensoukai."

The qualifier wasn't lost on Tsuzuki. "So you think this magic could be found elsewhere?"

"The energy generated by shikigami falls into four types: Fire, Earth, Metal, Water. These references to another type of elemental magic come from archaic mystical traditions. Western and Hindu cultures named it Aether or Void - the insubstantial power responsible for light and electricity. But that is not true magic. There is no purposeful intent behind such energy. Later humans learnt the science behind it, and the term fell into disrepute."

"Void energy? How can such a thing exist?"

"A contradiction in terms," Genbu agreed. "A void is the absence of energy. A void draws energy into itself and gives nothing in return."

Muraki was like a void - always insatiable, demanding more and more. Wait, that wasn't quite true. Muraki drained himself physically each night in a frenzy of sexual activity. His anguish in the alleyway was genuine. His acrid tears were real.

_Do you think me unworthy? Why won't you share?_

The truth struck him with painful clarity.

_The greedy person who imbibed the most energy, draining the other without reciprocating...the one most like a void..._

_It was me._

"In Chinese mystical tradition, the origins of the shikigami heritage, the fifth element is Wood. Wood energy is the energy of life. It serves the material world. No shikigami here utilises Wood energy - this is the one energy reserved solely for living entities."

"What about demons?"

Genbu frowned. "Highly unlikely. Demons cannot generate Fire from Wood. The energy regeneration cycle is not available to them - they simply do not have the reserves required." He stroked his chin. "And from what you've told me, it seems he thrives on Metal, not Fire."

"Metal energy alone can't sustain him. He draws on Earth energy to generate Metal energy to heal himself! He knows how to transform energy from one type to another!"

"Hmm. Do you admire his abilities?"

Tsuzuki started. "No. I know the dangers of accelerating entropy. What he's doing is risky to himself and others. It's just...I've never seen anything like it before."

"So he displays his knowledge and abilities like a peacock parading its tail." Genbu gave him a sidelong look. "He seeks your favour."

"My favour? What do you mean?"

"He wants your approval. He wishes to impress you." At Tsuzuki's bemused look, Genbu sighed. "He is courting you, of course."

"Nooo! He's not...I'm not...it's not like that! No one is courting anyone! He just wants energy from me! That's all he's after!"

"This is highly atypical behaviour for a demon hunting for energy. A demon would attack, feed, and move on. Such predators reveal themselves only when cornered. Yet this one is eager to engage you in a relationship of sorts--"

"Hah! You should hear us. We spend half the time yelling at each other."

"Conflict is inevitable if you fail to acknowledge his overtures. Spurning his advances only wounds his pride...and perpetuates a falsehood that is hurtful to you both."

Tsuzuki flushed. "Is...is it that obvious?"

Genbu shrugged. "You seek advice on how to secure within the confines of Gensoukai. You must approve of him to consider such a plan of action."

"I...I don't want him harming more people. I have to end it once and for all."

"Of course." Genbu nodded sagely. "As master, you will teach him obedience. Did you not bring peace by curbing hostilities among the warring shikigami? Did you not bring the destructive Touda to heel? This situation is no different. This Muraki needs to channel his abilities into a constructive purpose. Give him this purpose, and he will be yours." He placed his gnarled hand on Tsuzuki's arm. "The master of twelve divine commanders will have no trouble accomplishing such a task. As Black Warrior, guardian of wisdom, I will assist you."

Tsuzuki smiled, touched by Genbu's confidence. "Thanks, Genbu. I'm going to need it. My main worry is how vulnerable he is to injury. Despite his magical abilities, he doesn't seem to be able to transform himself into a non-corporeal form. Plus I need to figure out his false eye and his ties to the demon world. I don't want him making any trouble in Gensoukai."

Genbu hissed. "Are you insulting us? Nothing can match a God in battle!" He snatched the staff from Tsuzuki, and stabbed the ground. It shuddered violently and cracked open beneath their feet. "Let me see this Muraki. I will assess his abilities for myself."

"Hey!" Tsuzuki clung to a rock to keep himself from tumbling down the mountainside. "Are you serious? I can't just bring him here without preparation!"

"Of course not. You must summon me to the material world so I can examine him. Only then can I guide you further." Genbu stabbed the ground again.

"I know you, Genbu! You're just after an excuse to do more stomping!"

"I am God of Earth. I must energise the soil and make it strong once again. It has become weak in my absence." He glared at Tsuzuki and stabbed the ground twice more for emphasis. "You do not summon me enough."

* * *

Stubborn Genbu. The Black Warrior drove a hard bargain for his services.

It took much of Tsuzuki's negotiating skills and patience to convince Genbu not to follow him to the land of the living. At the appropriate time, he would summon Genbu to meet Muraki.

"I want no earthquakes, no volcanic eruptions, no tsunami waves unless I give the word. Promise me you'll be on your best behaviour."

Genbu had stamped his staff and hummed and hawed...and grudgingly agreed.

Sitting on the rooftop of Muraki's apartment block, one leg dangling over the edge, the other propped close his chest, Tsuzuki considered his plans for tonight.

Acknowledge Muraki's advances. Provide him with a purpose. Let Genbu check him out.

Simple enough. So why did he feel so nervous?

He wasn't this edgy when he challenged his shikigami. He understood their frustration trapped in their virtual world, forgotten by humankind. As their master, he knew he had something worthwhile to offer them in return - the opportunity to return to the material world, even for a limited time, and wield their powers once more.

What could he offer Muraki? Muraki's life was once devoted to the most noble of goals: preserving human life. Crushed by his failure, he'd turned his back on his profession to embrace a demonic existence.

All he could offer were fragments of himself...the pieces that weren't tenured to the will of EnmaDaiOh.

Tsuzuki jumped to his feet, nimble grace at odds with his nerves. Somehow he had to convince Muraki to sever the covenant and return to his former life. Confinement in Gensoukai was a meagre alternative to the unfettered freedom of earth. Someone as proud as Muraki would never agree to it.

But if Muraki refused to relinquish his demonic powers...

Tsuzuki pulled his coat around him, his gaze sombre as he watched the setting sun inch closer to the horizon.

...he would be left with no other choice.

* * *

This time he avoided his invisibility cloaking spell. He simply materialised inside Muraki's living room without any fanfare or warning.

The cat jumped down from the coffee table and rubbed itself against his legs, purring in greeting.

Sitting on the sofa, Muraki froze. He held his pistol in one hand, a cartridge of ammunition in the other. Scattered on the coffee table were various metal tools and brushes. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction when he saw Tsuzuki.

"Ahh...I see you're busy."

Without taking his gaze off Tsuzuki, Muraki loaded the cartridge into the firearm with a solid click. He pointed the muzzle at him, unsmiling. "Good evening, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki didn't move. He had nothing to fear from bullets. "Are you practising your welcome for the Yakuza?"

"A man in my position must always give his personal security highest priority." He lowered the pistol and began packing up his tools.

Muraki was dressed differently tonight. Instead of his customary white suit, he wore a sleek silver-grey suit with lavender shirt and a bold tie in stripes of purple and white. The lean cut of the jacket made him look slimmer, his shoulders less broad. In each earlobe he wore the ruby studs. Much to Tsuzuki's relief, neither of them were bleeding.

"Those clothes look nice on you," Tsuzuki said, more to fill the silence than anything else. Despite the physical intimacy they'd shared, he didn't feel comfortable about something as trivial as taking a seat in Muraki's apartment without invitation.

"Thank you." Muraki didn't look up.

The cat circled his legs in delirious welcome. Tsuzuki reached down and picked it up in his arms. "So how are you?" The cat purred and rubbed itself against his neck.

Muraki reholstered the gun under his jacket. Without saying a word, he took his collection of tools into the bedroom.

Tsuzuki watched his retreating back with a sense of dread. Maybe this was the real Muraki. Now he'd been fed, he no longer needed to play the passionate lover. Everything he'd said and done...a convincing performance, nothing more...

Unconsciously he curled his fingers into the cat's fur. The feline squirmed and clawed his shoulder. Its yowls of protest coalesced into a shrill childlike voice:

"Follow! Follow!"

Stunned, Tsuzuki let it go. It landed on all fours and ran into the bedroom.

"Hey, come back! Did you just say something?" He went after it without thinking, and came face to face with Muraki standing in the doorway, the cat at his heels.

"You must be hearing things." Muraki brushed past him to sit on the sofa again. He lit a cigarette and began to smoke in silence. The cat leapt up to sit beside him.

Tsuzuki hesitated before deciding to sit in one of the nearby armchairs. No point being a polite guest when Muraki behaved like a rude host. "Do you have an engagement tonight?"

Muraki exhaled before removing the cigarette from his lips. "Possibly." He studied Tsuzuki insolently over the curling smoke. "What's it to you?"

Tsuzuki blinked. Genbu advised him to acknowledge Muraki's 'courtship.' Buw how should he deal with Muraki's coldness?

He decided to imitate Muraki's blase example. "Well, I think I'll tag along. Wherever you go, trouble follows."

Muraki smiled thinly. "I never create 'trouble' without orchestrating an exit strategy for myself, so to speak."

"I know. It's not you I'm worried about."

"So that's your reason for coming here. You're nothing more than a sheepdog, watching over Enma's precious flock of human souls. I have no use for a dog. I already have a cat that's troublesome enough."

"What's the alternative?" Tsuzuki snapped. "To be your private 'sealed food' source? Each time you need a refill, we meet up for a quick snack?" He lowered his voice to mimic Muraki's. "'Feed me, Tsuzuki-san, feed me.' That's all I ever hear from you!"

"Then why don't you leave?" Muraki shoved the cigarette down with a single vicious gesture, but at the last minute restrained himself by placing it on the ashtray.

"You're only after me because of my powers. You're like a pathetic baby bird squawking to be fed." Tsuzuki stood up, excited and fearful in equal measure. He knew where this was heading. Their conflicts always led to the same sizzling conclusion. "You're no better than him at all!"

"Get out! Return to your 'master' in Meifu!" Muraki bared his teeth in a ferocious sneer. "Go stagnate in perpetual ignorance! Play the village idiot while everything around you crumbles to dust!"

Tsuzuki walked a few steps away, his back to Muraki. With a casual shrug of his shoulders, he let his trenchcoat fall to the the floor. "I don't take orders from you. I'm not here on Enma's orders either." He turned to give Muraki a sidelong look as he undid his tie and let it slither off. "I'm here of my own free will."

Muraki remained rooted to the sofa, lips parted. His true eye roved over Tsuzuki from head to foot.

Tsuzuki looked away, heart pounding. Muraki's gaze charged the air between them. He could almost feel the weight of his stare caressing him. Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide free. With a small toss of his head, he displayed the lean muscles of his shoulders and back for his audience.

"Why, Tsuzuki-san...is this little show of your own free will, too?"

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki slowly turned around, hands clasped loosely in front of him. He tilted his head to one side, a lopsided smile on his lips. "Don't tell me you doubt your own appeal?"

Muraki laughed at that, a derisive sound. "Forgive my scepticism. Your fickle behaviour has left me a little confused, to say the least. You'll have to do much more to convince me of this miraculous change of heart." He crossed his legs and picked up his cigarette once more, then gestured in Tsuzuki's direction. "But for now, please be my guest. How pleasant to watch a striptease without paying upfront for the privilege."

Tsuzuki lifted his chin. He wasn't ashamed. He had nothing to be guilty about, especially not before this man who embraced the demonic. Meeting Muraki's glittering gaze, he unbuckled his belt and yanked it free with a swing of his arm. It clattered as it landed on the glass coffee table.

The cat scrambled up the back of the chair.

Muraki didn't flinch. Smoke curled from his nostrils. One brow arched in sardonic amusement.

Tsuzuki refused to be deterred. Muraki's nonchalance was an act. His avid gaze betrayed his true desire. His legs were crossed - a clumsy attempt to conceal his arousal. Muraki had proven himself a demanding, rapacious lover. Tonight would be no different. Tsuzuki was counting on it.

The thought made him flush, and his genitals tingle in anticipation. He ducked his head and turned away, modesty getting the better of him. With fumbling fingers he undid the fly of his trousers, taking care to ease the zipper over his cock, now swollen beneath his underpants. Shoes were an obstacle - he'd forgotten to remove them. A quick spell made them vanish, along with his socks. That was better. After pushing them over his hips, his trousers slid to his knees and refused to go further. He stepped out of them one leg at a time.

From the sofa, Muraki smoked in silence. In his lap, one of his hands curled into a fist.

For several heartbeats, Tsuzuki waited - hoped - for him to move. His erection pressed against his underpants. Surely Muraki could see the bulge. Even without laying a finger on him, Muraki could affect him like this.

Tsuzuki swallowed, suddenly nervous. Maybe this was a huge mistake. But he couldn't turn back without making an even bigger fool of himself. He bent forward to slide his underpants off and stepped out of them, completely nude.

Muraki sighed deeply. "Rather pedestrian, but not bad for a free show." He stubbed the cigarette out and clapped. "You must include more dance moves and eye contact. Background music would add atmosphere too."

Ultimate humiliation. A slap in the face couldn't hurt more.

"Well, I must go." Muraki stood up and combed his fingers through his hair. "Make sure you pick up your belongings before you leave."

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. He wished the ground would swallow him whole. He wanted to curl up and die.

The cat yowled. It clawed Muraki's hand, drawing blood. "Noooo! Noooo!"

Muraki shoved it roughly away. "Silence."

The cat leapt to the floor. "Cease this!" it hissed.

Dimly Tsuzuki wondered why it was able to talk now, but he didn't ask. His conscious mind was too shellshocked to care.

_He's fed from you twice. He doesn't need you now. It's over._

No physical assault hurt this much. His shinigami powers could heal near-fatal injuries. Why couldn't his powers numb the terrible pain of rejection?

_As master, you will teach him obedience... The master of twelve divine commanders will have no trouble accomplishing such a task._

Words from Genbu, the black guardian of wisdom.

_Master of twelve..._

Tsuzuki lifted his head, and clenched his fist. He had done it before. He could do it again.

"Muraki! Come to me!"

"Come to you? You're the dog who blindly obeys orders, not me." He looked over Tsuzuki, lower lip curling. "Although under these circumstances, even that may be too kind. Even a dog would draw the line at using sexual favours to manipulate others. Tonight you've proved yourself to be nothing but Enma's whore!"

"No, dammit! I'm here by choice!" Tsuzuki lunged out to grab his hand. "My choice!"

Living fire. The heat scorched up Tsuzuki's arm, along his shoulder - a white hot inferno blazing into every fibre of his being. His limbs were melting into mush. He couldn't let go even if he wanted to.

Muraki shuddered. He too was afflicted by the same lethargy. Perspiration dewed his forehead. His chest rose and fell with erratic breaths. His mocking sneer became a grimace of desperation. Up close, Muraki's crumbling guise of indifference was transformed into naked suffering - a mirror of Tsuzuki's own tortured emotions.

Wild hope fuelled recklessness. "Don't leave me." Tsuzuki dared to rub his cheek against the back of Muraki's hand, then kiss the palm. "I need you. I can't stop thinking about you."

Trembling fingers seized his jaw. Muraki scanned his features, his gaze wild-eyed, his breath hot against Tsuzuki's cheek. "Good," he growled. "Very good."

Tsuzuki pulled him into a kiss - sucking and licking, even biting when he couldn't get his way. When Muraki retaliated, he shivered and welcomed Muraki deep. The bitter tobacco taste was uniquely Muraki's. How he, a sweet-tooth addict, had come to crave it, he didn't know - another sign of Muraki's formidable power.

Muraki shuddered again. He pulled Tsuzuki against him. His hands moulded Tsuzuki's fragile nape, the angular shoulder blades and graceful curves of his back, down to the muscular curves of his buttocks - a wave of rough silken heat against sensitised skin. He massaged one asscheek, scratching it with his nails, squeezing it possessively over and over until Tsuzuki groaned and arched against him. The abrasive material of the suit chafed his bare skin.

"Take it off..." Tsuzuki loosened the striped tie, scrabbled at the buttons of Muraki's shirt. These barriers incensed him. How could something so flimsy be so difficult to remove? Instead he tore the shirt free from the trousers and slid his hands underneath. Damp flesh twitched and flexed beneath his fingertips. "Are you all right? You're burning up."

"Never...better." Muraki's teeth grazed the side of Tsuzuki's throat. His fingers slid against the opening of Tsuzuki's ass.

"Ahhh." Tsuzuki stiffened in surprise, but his muscles willingly accommodated Muraki's thrusting fingers.

"Is this the reason you're here? Tell me."

Tsuzuki gasped and nodded. In this position, Muraki couldn't reach his prostate, but the shallow thrusts were enough to make his insides twist in anticipation.

He tore at the buckle of Muraki's belt, unzipped the fly. He cupped and stroked the hard bulge over his crotch. The material was wet with precome - an exhilarating discovery. He had the power to bring Muraki to this pitch of excitement. He wormed one hand inside and grasped the shaft, milking it as best he could.

Muraki squeezed his eyes shut. Abruptly he grabbed Tsuzuki's wrists and pulled him across the living room, past the doorway leading to the bedroom. He guided Tsuzuki to stand by a wall near the window, and took a few steps away to face him.

"Muraki, what--"

"Don't touch me. Spread your legs. Keep your back against the wall. Stroke yourself."

Unseen by either man, the cat chose a sunny patch of carpet to lie down and watch.

"But why--"

"Do it." Muraki shrugged out his jacket. "I can't undress when you touch me. You distract me too much."

Bewildered, Tsuzuki obeyed. He placed one hand around his shaft, and the other under his testicles. Slowly he began to stroke himself.

Muraki removed his tie, unbuttoned his shirt. His movements were quick, desperate. He wasn't interested in giving a performance. His hooded gaze was riveted on Tsuzuki's movements.

Tsuzuki flushed. Undressing was one thing, but masturbation something else. He didn't do it often, especially after his death. After all, it never seemed to work. Doing it before Muraki, the most sexually confident person he'd ever known, only compounded his embarrassment. His cock, once erect, now wavered in his grip.

Muraki took off his glasses, brows knitted together in a disapproving frown. After placing them on the coffee table, he took off the rest of his clothing and returned to stand before Tsuzuki. With his arms by his side, his gaze bold and unafraid, he was aggressive male sexuality personified. His pale skin gleamed orange-gold where it was touched by the last rays of the setting sun. The lean perfection of his throat and broad shoulders bore no sign of bite marks, loving or otherwise.

Tsuzuki drank in the sight of him. Every inch of him was beautiful. The scars wrapped around his waist like a snake, the glittering false eye...these flaws were not enough to detract from his beauty.

In his lax hands, Tsuzuki's cock stiffened.

Muraki shook his head and laughed. He pressed Tsuzuki against the wall, arms braced on each side to prevent his escape. "You flatter me, Tsuzuki-san. Let me show you how it's done."

He kissed Tsuzuki hard. He gripped Tsuzuki's cock and milked it with rapid, frenzied strokes. His other hand wound around Tsuzuki's back to tease the cleft of his ass again.

Enveloped in his arms, flesh on flesh...Tsuzuki wanted to sing with the pleasure of it. This was better, far better than anything he could do to himself. His cock swelled, his testicles ached...the heat from Muraki's hand was pooling in his groin, bringing exquisite bliss as it trickled into every tingling nerve-ending. Tsuzuki clutched him close, nails digging into his upper back.

"When you want something...you must grab it. Don't let go. Chase it...hunt it down...do whatever it takes. Like this." He squeezed Tsuzuki's cock again and again, along the shaft up the crown, his thumb rubbing the throbbing head.

"Ohhh...Muraki..."

"This is the first thing...humans learn." Muraki nuzzled his earlobe. "From the moment we are born...we are doomed to die. This simple truth...is insupportable to us. So we claw...and pull...and grasp...for meaning." He put action to words, jerking Tsuzuki's cock over and over, urging it into full arousal. "We wring meaning...from transitory pleasures. We invest meaning...in pain and suffering. Constantly...reaching...for something to make us whole."

"Ahh..." Tsuzuki rested his forehead against Muraki's shoulder. "So good...yes..."

"Humanity's pathetic fate. Grasping...clinging...holding...clenching..."

Tsuzuki wound one leg around Muraki to pull him closer. He arched his hips, grinding their cocks together in a slippery tangle of sweat and precome.

Muraki exhaled sharply. "How you tempt me..." He grabbed Tsuzuki by the hips and hauled him up. "You think I want to be like this?"

Tsuzuki clutched Muraki's shoulders. "What...?"

Muraki pressed close, forcing his back against the wall. A wicked glint lit his good eye.

Tsuzuki trembled and wrapped both legs around him. He knew what was coming.

"I am yours, Tsuzuki-san. And now..."

He lowered Tsuzuki and arched his hips forward, his entire body as taut as an archer's bow. His cock slid against Tsuzuki's cleft, seeking entry.

Tsuzuki gasped. The inexorable force of gravity prevented escape. His muscles twitched around the head of the erection, guiding Muraki home.

"Yes..." Muraki sighed, and impaled him deep. "At last. Yes."

Tsuzuki whimpered and tried to squirm free - useless. The combination of gravity and strong hands prevented his escape. Caught in Muraki's arms, wedged between the wall and the unyielding bulk of Muraki's body, he had no choice but to accept the sizzling jolt of Muraki penetrating him.

He clenched his jaw and curled his nails into the flexing bulk of taut shoulder muscles. It hurt more than he remembered. Tears came to his eyes, but he blinked them away. He knew he could handle this. His shinigami body could endure anything. He focused on relaxing his muscles so he could take in more of the sizeable erection. The shaft stretching him open, burning through him...this was what being human was all about.

Inch by inch, he shivered as Muraki pushed himself deeper. Amazing. Both pleasure and pain were magnified without lubricant. This heat filling him up, making him whole...only Muraki could give him this wonderful experience.

Tsuzuki shivered as his prostate was nudged. "There...just there. Oh."

"I know." With his face buried against Tsuzuki's shoulder, Muraki chuckled. "This is why you're here, ne?" He jerked his hips forward for emphasis. "Not for Enma, but for me!"

The friction fired off a shot of quicksilver sweetness inside Tsuzuki. His cock twitched in automatic response, awakened by the taste of erotic pleasure. Braced against the wall, the muscles across his shoulder blades tightened, but Tsuzuki was too aroused to care.

"Mmm...more."

Muraki muttered something unintelligible. With his nails, he pulled Tsuzuki's buttocks even further apart. "Glutton. You love being fed this way."

"Ahhh." Tsuzuki squeezed him again, milking him steadily, exploiting Muraki's fatal weakness. It was good for him too - each clench accentuated the sparks against his prostate. He caressed his fingers along the scratches he'd inflicted across Muraki's back. "I...I hold on tight...to what I want."

"Mmm. But how well can you hold me?" He lifted Tsuzuki's hips, sliding him up against the wall as he slowly withdrew.

Tsuzuki tightened his legs around Muraki's torso, his heels pressing into tight buttocks. The painful fullness was gone, but so was the exquisite pleasure. His anal muscles clamped around Muraki, urging him back. He gripped Muraki's shoulders like an eagle grasping prey, drawing blood once more.

"I knew it all along." Muraki trembled from head to foot. He buried his lips against the side of Tsuzuki's throat. "You need me. Admit it."

"I...I need you. Don't stop."

Muraki lowered Tsuzuki, slowly impaling him once more. "Better?"

A burst of heated bliss flowed through Tsuzuki, emanating from that special place Muraki knew so well. His muscles flexed once again around Muraki in lusty greeting. "Ahh...again."

"I will. Lift your legs higher so I can fuck you properly."

Tsuzuki pulled Muraki closer to him, both arms clutching his neck. He hitched his knees higher so they were lodged were under Muraki's arms, his heels digging into the small of his back. His body was capable of a nimble gymnastic grace - a vital skill in dodging demon attacks. Now Muraki was going to test his flexibility in an entirely different field.

Tsuzuki couldn't wait. Using the height advantage of his position, he licked the sweat dewing Muraki's forehead. His lips gently brushed over the retracted eyelid of the false eye, guiding it shut. "Is that better?"

Muraki smiled. He answered in the best way possible: a surge of his hips.

Tsuzuki clung to him, gasping softly. This new angle was much better for deeper penetration. He could feel the wet glide of the cock as it slid inside, right up against his prostate. Perfect. A satisfying jolt of ecstasy sent tremors of bone-melting pleasure through him. His muscles quivered, ripple after ripple of nervous delight, rewarding Muraki for his efforts.

Muraki exhaled, shivering from head to foot. His hunger was too great, his willpower too weak. Bracing Tsuzuki against the wall, arms rock-hard with tension, buttocks and calf muscles taut as he supported their combined weight, Muraki pounded into him at a frenetic pace.

Tsuzuki matched him thrust for thrust. He was trapped, pinned down...and he loved it. With his body enclosing Muraki's torso, their damp skin in intimate contact from chest to groin, he was consumed by heat and pleasure and a crazy sense of triumph.

Muraki wouldn't leave him. Muraki needed him too much. He would attack and snarl and snipe, but he always came to him in the end.

This monstrous chimera of the human and demonic...

_All mine._

The itch sizzled down his shoulder blades. Tsuzuki hissed and pressed himself against the wall. The friction of cold concrete against his back eased it a little. "My back hurts...ahhh. Muraki..."

Muraki's nails drew blood from Tsuzuki's buttocks. His thrusts became harder, more energetic. Their flesh began to slap from his vigorous movements.

Tsuzuki whimpered softly. He rocked between Muraki's heated bulk and the wall, a willing slave to Muraki's desire. Thrust after thrust pushed the wave of pleasure higher and higher. Nestled between their bodies, his own cock swelled to painful fullness. His back ached and throbbed as it rubbed against the wall.

Muraki's mouth was liquid fire against his throat. "Wait for me." His silken deep voice reverberated throughout Tsuzuki's entire body. "Tsuzuki-san...Tsuzuki...soon you will soar...but not yet."

Presumptuous, but Tsuzuki didn't call him up on it. The combined friction of flesh and concrete left him a gasping, trembling wreck. This wasn't the time to insist on proper formalities.

Muraki thrust deep. "Now!"

Tsuzuki cried out. His entire body ignited into an incandescent flame, glowing with ecstasy within and burning with fire without. His body was shaking, over and over, caught in the grip of physical release.

Muraki stiffened against him, standing on tiptoe, as he too achieved climax.

For several seconds they remained by the wall, gasping for breath. Muraki was the first to move. He slowly eased himself out, and lowered Tsuzuki to the floor. Dazed, Tsuzuki almost stumbled - his legs were as wobbly as a newborn calf. Muraki helped him regain his bearings, then lowered himself to his knees. He gently lapped Tsuzuki's lax genitals until they were clean. When he was finished, he swallowed the flaccid cock into his mouth.

Tsuzuki was too stunned to resist. He couldn't come so soon - it was impossible. He was so tired, so weak.

So wrong.

Under the onslaught of Muraki's zealous attention, his cock became hard once more. That delicious wet suction, that flexible tongue...and the reverent gaze adoring him.

With his hips braced against the wall, legs apart in front of him, Tsuzuki gave up his essence again.

Muraki knelt on his haunches at Tsuzuki's feet, chest heaving as he caught his breath. "Mine," he whispered. His false eye began to glow.

Tsuzuki was speechless. Trembling against the wall, head thrown back, knees barely able to hold himself up, he couldn't hide from the truth any longer. Muraki's mastery of his body was complete.

* * *

Seated in his sitting room, Hakushaku paused in the act of sipping his tea.

The candleholder he'd placed on a nearby table erupted into violet fire. Embers caught on the curtains of a nearby window, setting them aflame. The rug began to smoulder. A bouquet of roses crackled and burned on a nearby table.

For a moment, Hakushaku thought about pouring his tea over the flames. But it was such a fine brew, and Watson made it especially for him. The last thing he wanted to do was give his loyal manservant unnecessary work.

He took a sip, then rang a bell. "Watson? Please bring the fire extinguisher."

Watson staggered into the room dressed in a red helmet, yellow overalls and black boots. On his back was a metal cylinder double the size of his puny body. "Yes, Hakushaku-sama!" He took aim at the source of the mini-inferno.

"No! Not the candle, Watson! Everything but the candle!"

"Yes, Hakushaku-sama!"

A torrent of water sent the vase of roses crashing against a wall. Another blast drenched the curtains, dislodged the curtain rod and sent the entire curtain tumbling to the floor. The rug received the final dousing spray.

By the time Watson was done, the flare-up was over. A single violet flame stood straight and tall in the candleholder, burning brighter than before.

"Good work, Watson. A shame about the mess."

"I will clean it up at once, Hakushaku-sama." Watson bowed, overbalanced, and fell flat on his face.

The door to the sitting room suddenly swung open. No one stood in the doorway. All Watson could see was the dark elongated shadow of a single man.

"Why...how unexpected!" Hakushaku clasped his gloved hands together. "But certainly not unwelcome. You should have given me notice of your visit."

"The same 'notice' you gave the guards last night?" The voice was soft, rasping with a distinct sibilance. It reminded Watson of the sound of leaves rustling in a strong wind.

Hakushaku laughed. "Watson, leave the clean-up for later. We have a most important guest to entertain tonight."


	21. Meditation and murder

Apologies for the delay in updating this. Thanks to Gengkotsuya for her help. Thanks to those who've sent in such encouraging feedback!

* * *

Lying across the sofa with limbs sprawled in wanton abandon, Tsuzuki didn't want to move. Post-orgasmic languor thrummed through his body. He felt the pleasure ebb away, leaving behind the dull ache of weary muscles. 

Above him, Muraki lifted himself up, chest heaving, his hair dishevelled. He wiped the back of one hand across his mouth, then looked at his watch.

"Get dressed. We're late enough as it is." His gaze roamed over Tsuzuki's body before turning away.

"Late for what?" Tsuzuki lazily stretched his arms over his head. "I thought you did whatever you pleased, consequences be damned."

Muraki was already buttoning his shirt. "There is a time and place for everything. Now it's time to be punctual." He bent down to retrieve his tie and slung it around his collar. "If you're going to join me, you better get up."

"Fine." Tsuzuki closed his eyes and mentally recited a spell. In an instant, he was lounging on the sofa in a seated position. He wore his rumpled shirt, loose tie, trousers and trenchcoat. "All ready."

"I see." Muraki looked a little annoyed.

"One of the perks of being a shinigami. Would you like me to dress you too? No, wait." Tsuzuki's lips curved in a sly grin. "You got to watch me perform, remember? Now it's my turn to watch you. Or you could start using your own powers for a change. I think you're capable of more than you let on."

The cat scrambled into Tsuzuki's lap and rubbed its head against his chest. "Trruuuue..." it purred softly. "Trruuue."

It wasn't his imagination. The creature could talk. _Or he now had the power to understand..._

Tsuzuki gently scratched its neck. What was done was done. There was no turning back.

"You overestimate me...but I thank you for the praise." Muraki pulled up his trousers. "I have something I want you to wear tonight."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"We are visiting a special place. By dressing well, we demonstrate our reverence. I have something that will be perfect for you."

It was a charcoal grey morning coat, cut short at the front and flaring into a pair of tails at the back. It came with a silver grey waistcoat, and a pair of charcoal grey trousers with purple braces. A matching purple bow tie and a polished ebony cane completed the outfit.

Tsuzuki was amazed. "I...I'm not sure these are my size..."

"Do you doubt my powers already?" Muraki teased. "Keep your white shirt, but wear these in place of your work clothes."

"But why? They look...so formal. I'll look even more over-dressed than you!"

"As it should be. Indulge me a little."

The clothes were loose at first, but the seams began to tighten around his body, moulding the cloth to his physique. Tsuzuki looked down in wonder as the clothes shrunk down to create a perfect fit.

"Allow me." Muraki slid the tie around Tsuzuki's neck and began to do it up from behind. "Tailor-made clothes are the best, ne?"

"You've gone to a lot of trouble for me. It takes a special tailor to make clothes like this."

"Indeed it does." Muraki's lips quirked. "These were made by a former patient of mine. I performed a triple-bypass on him after he suffered a heart attack three years ago. He gave me this excellent example of his craftsmanship as a mark of his gratitude." He made a final adjustment to the ends, then stepped back to admire his work. "Perfect. As neat as a made-up tie without the cheap hooks and buckles."

"No ordinary tailor uses materials like this." Tsuzuki ran his fingers along the seam of his sleeve. The thread was imbued with magic - magic he'd encountered before. "Charmed woman's hair. The same thread you used to tie up Hisoka in the warehouse."

"Why, I'm flattered you remember. We met under such different circumstances that night. You were so cold to me--"

"What about the way you manipulated Hisoka and Maria Wong?"

Muraki dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "All in the past. Let's put those mistakes behind us." He picked up the cane, and tossed it in Tsuzuki's direction.

Tsuzuki caught it in one hand - a reflex action. "You were aiming at my head!"

Muraki shrugged into his white trenchcoat. "Did you notice? Your reflexes are faster now than they were on the Queen Camellia."

The cat rubbed itself against Tsuzuki's ankles. "Trrue. Trrrrruuue."

Tsuzuki put down the cane with a decisive stamp, scaring the cat into silence. "I still feel overdressed. I look like I'm about to attend a wedding."

Muraki seized his hand, eyes wide. "Tsuzuki-san! Is this a proposal? Have you decided to make an honest man of me at last?"

"No, you idiot! Stop twisting my words! You know what I meant!" Tsuzuki bowed his head, acutely embarrassed. "Actually, this outfit could also be worn for other formal occasions." His expression became grave. "Like a funeral. Maybe that's more appropriate for us."

"Many religious creeds affirm that death is merely a transition to a new beginning." Muraki's smile was lopsided as he put his arm around Tsuzuki's shoulders. "Maybe that's something we both need, ne?"

A sweet falsehood, nothing more. Tsuzuki knew the reality of the afterlife only too well.

When Muraki kissed him, Tsuzuki felt the pistol's metal beneath his jacket in place of a living heartbeat.

* * *

Dressed in such fine clothes, Tsuzuki half-expected to be taken to another exclusive restaurant. But to his surprise, Muraki drove east out of the city, past the scenic views of Tachibana Bay and towards the mountainous Shimabara Peninsula, a region famous for its active volcanoes and hot springs. The Ferrari hugged the curves of the coastal highways and steep mountain roads with equal ease, its engine growling as it surged to meet each challenge. 

They stopped at a small temple perched on a hill with a sweeping view of the bay below. The setting sun cast pink streaks over the few clouds and tinged the sky gold.

Muraki fished out some coins and deposited them in the nearby wooden box.

Tsuzuki hung back. He recognised the writing over the plain wooden gateway. And there was no mistaking the cluster of six small Jizo Buddha statues standing guard, their sober monk's garb decorated with green blotches of moss and mildew.

Next to him, the cat stared at the entrance.

"Why are we here?"

"Is it considered demeaning for a shinigami to pay his respects to another deity?"

"No, of course not."

"Good. Then come in."

Together they followed the path of uneven steps into a large pebble-lined courtyard with rows of little stone Jizo statues. Candles and incense sticks were placed before each one. A few were surrounded by bouquets of flowers. Others had plastic toy pinwheels that spun in the breeze. All were dressed in bright red woollen bonnets and bibs.

The cat padded along the rows of statues, entranced. It tilted its head at one statue. Hesitantly it pawed at the woollen bib.

Muraki picked up an unlit candle and held the wick against the flame of another candle. When it failed to light, he tsked and pulled out his lighter. It spat sparks but refused to light.

"Last night I gave you one that worked," Tsuzuki reminded him. "But asking Suzaku to bless it was a mistake."

"A mere toy charmed by the Red Bird."

"Exposure to elemental Fire could have melted away your remaining energy reserves. If I'd known your dominant element was Metal, I wouldn't have endangered you like that." Tsuzuki withdrew an attack fuda from his breast pocket. With a flick of his fingers, it burst into flames. "Here."

Muraki dipped the wick into the flame. "Thank you." He held the lit candle in his hands, eyes shut. The flickering candlelight danced over his serene features.

Tsuzuki crushed the burning fuda in his bare hand. The balmy sea breeze made the tails of the coat sway and billow around his legs. So much for Muraki being a devout Christian. Then again, it was common for people to practise rituals from different religious traditions according to the time of year.

"Where there is light, there is hope," Muraki murmured. He placed the candle before the little statue. "Each flame here represents a life that might have been, ne? Mothers mourning their miscarried or aborted babies seek Jizo's protection. They hope he will help their child escape hell and find another way in the world." He cast his eye over the rows of candles approvingly. "Each is insignificant in isolation, but together these candles form a wondrous sight. Truly a vision to comfort the most distraught spirit."

It reminded Tsuzuki of Hakushaku's mansion, lit with the millions of candles representing human souls. Beautiful, yes...but more morbid than soothing. Seeing a human life reduced to a flickering flame made a mockery of human existence. But here, the flames were a prayer for another existence. These were flames of hope - hope of a longer life to come.

"Are you in need of comfort from the Saviour of Condemned Souls?"

Muraki turned a little, surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"Jizo is a merciful God who delivers souls from evil. Legends describe him battling underworld demons to protect the souls of condemned children. He's also the guardian of travellers - many roadside shrines in Japan like this are built in his honour." Tsuzuki tapped the tip of his cane into the pebbled ground. "Perhaps Jizo can succeed with you where I have failed. You should pray that he will enlighten you to the dangers of your covenant."

"I am not here to pray for my soul. I know of other souls far more deluded than mine." From behind the reflected candlelight in his glasses, Muraki's gaze was alight with amusement.

"Really?" Tsuzuki absently tapped the cane into the pebbled ground again. "Then...maybe you're here to pay your respects to a mizuko of your own. Do you have a lost child in your past?"

Muraki's upper lip curled. "Do you think me so reckless in my private life?"

"Ahh, Muraki." Tsuzuki chuckled in spite of himself. "You lead a reckless life, period."

"I have no mizuko." Muraki's voice was curt, vehement. "I have no children, living or dead. I have no interest in burdening a woman with unwanted offspring."

"How considerate of you." Tsuzuki tried to steer their conversation to a less grisly topic. "Of course, if you were to fall in love with a woman, and she with you, having a child would be a joyous event. A celebration of new life! Who wouldn't want to become a father under such circumstances?"

Muraki's lips were compressed in a grim line.

"Have...have you ever thought about having a family of your own? Wouldn't you like to settle down one day?" At Muraki's tense silence, Tsuzuki became serious. "So many people find a family gives their life meaning - it fills a void they never realised they had. Maybe it could do the same for you."

"I have no interest in becoming a parent. Parenthood is a thankless task only for the masochistic."

"What makes you say that?"

Muraki averted his gaze. "Did you know that the developing foetus is the most effective parasite known to medical science? Despite being composed of foreign tissue, it tricks the mother into supplying it with the nutrients it needs to thrive without activating the maternal immune system. After birth, the newborn resorts to clever body language to establish the bond essential for its survival - the mewling to be fed, the intense focused stare, the smiles of recognition and imitative babbling. Parental obligation becomes attachment soon enough, and with it, psychological transference." Muraki's upper lip curled. "Parents begin to see their children as extensions of themselves. They project their own stalled ambitions and dreams onto their offspring. They want their young to fulfil the goals they failed to reach."

Muraki's deep voice, edged with cynicism, held Tsuzuki enthralled.

"But they will not. In the end, all children become disappointments to their parents. In the same way they broke out of the womb, so children will trample and spit on the most carefully-laid plans. It is inevitable that children will come to reject the ones who brought them into being."

"You...you sound like you're speaking from experience."

"Mine, of course." He looked directly at Tsuzuki. "And yours."

Tsuzuki froze, rooted to the spot. "Wha...What?"

"This is our fate. Separation from one's parents is a necessary prelude to establishing one's individual identity."

"I see." For one horrible moment, he thought Muraki was referring to something else. "I didn't know."

Muraki turned his gaze back to the statues. "Most parents don't either. They watch their children transform into a younger version of their flawed selves and repeat the cycle of failure over again." He waved his hand over the row of statues. "Better to have your stone tower of hopes smashed in the dried riverbed of the Otherworld than to stumble on the treadmill of this merciless world. These unborn souls are the fortunate ones, Tsuzuki-san. They have been spared much misery."

Tsuzuki struggled to come up with a reply. He knew nothing about being a parent, and he hardly remembered his childhood. "I know you feel this way now...but that doesn't meant you won't change your mind in the future. I bet if you found a special woman--"

"Finding a woman is not the issue! I never want to be a father! Ever!"

The hostility took Tsuzuki by surprise. This defensiveness was at odds with the Muraki he knew.

"All right," he said gently. "I understand."

"Do you?" Muraki shot back. "Or are you projecting your own frustrated paternal urges onto me? Do you harbour fantasies for a child of your own?"

"Me? No way! I mean, I find children cute and I like being around them...but being a father is out of the question!"

His answer only incensed Muraki further. "Who told you that? Enma?"

Tsuzuki stepped back. "He doesn't have to! I already know a shinigami would make the worst possible parent - always away on assignment, never around to help raise a child, not even able to provide financial support. What kind of life would that be..." He stopped, appalled. His mother's words in that dream:

_Thank you for bringing him into my life. Thank you for answering my prayers. May he be pleasing in your sight._

Muraki lowered his gaze, shoulders hunched. His silver hair fell over his eyes. "True. So true." His anger was gone, as if it had never been. "But it doesn't answer my question."

He looked pensive...even a little sad. Did Muraki really care if he wanted a child?

"A father who brings life into the world only to extinguish it later is worse than useless," Tsuzuki murmured. "I know what I am. Fatherhood is not for me, and I have no regrets." Using the handle of the cane, he lifted up Muraki's jaw. "No regrets at all."

Surprise flashed in Muraki's good eye, to be replaced by an unreadable hauteur.

Desire kindled within Tsuzuki. Muraki at his most supercilious excited him very much. Holding the cane by the shaft, he stroked the handle along Muraki's jaw and up one chiseled cheekbone, admiring the contrast of ebony against pale skin. "There are other more diverting ways for me to spend my eternity, hmm?"

Muraki didn't move a muscle. His grey eye glittered - whether it was annoyance, lust or amusement Tsuzuki couldn't tell.

Tsuzuki let the cane slide down to the corner of Muraki's mouth. With careful precision, he began to run the polished black wood along Muraki's lower lip - teasing the sensitive flesh. He let himself imagine it was his cock against Muraki's lips instead of the cane. The thought made his heart pound and the rest of his body tingle in anticipation.

Muraki grasped the handle, his lips curled in a sardonic smile. "I will do my best to keep you entertained." Using his thumb, he rubbed tantalising slow circles over the polished ebony knob.

Tsuzuki pulled the cane free. He was acutely embarrassed...and aroused. But this wasn't the time or place. "There's an altar. If you're here to pray to Jizo, you can do it there."

The altar consisted of a small covered alcove, open to the elements from the front and sides. Flanked by fresh flowers were three large Jizo statues as tall as a man, each wearing incongruous-looking oversized red bonnets and bibs. Incense smoke wafted from a bronze pot holding joss sticks.

Muraki rung the bell hanging over the altar, then bowed and clasped his hands together. The cat joined him, head bent as it sat at his feet.

Out of respect for Muraki's privacy, Tsuzuki sat on a stone bench a few metres away. His new clothes fitted him well, but were too stifling in this warm weather. Why did Muraki want him to dress like this? It wasn't like they were out to impress anyone. And why come to such a remote location to pray? There were more impressive Buddhist temples in Nagasaki City. The most famous, the Chinese-influenced Sofukuji, contained architecture that was marked as national treasures.

But Sofukuji would be packed with tourists. It would be difficult to keep a low profile, and Muraki's looks ensured he would stand out in any crowd. A man keeping a low profile from the Yakuza would take care to avoid detection at such a landmark.

Under the circumstances, visiting a humble roadside temple was a prudent choice.

Tsuzuki looked around. No men in black suits hiding among the shadows of the statues. No demons lurking behind the trees in the courtyard. The rustle of the leaves, the odd birdsong, and the prayer notes flapping in the wind were the only noises disturbing the silence.

Now was as good a time as any for him to get started.

Tsuzuki recited the invocation to himself, hands clasped together. When he was done, he lifted his head. Everything looked exactly the same. When he strained his ears, he could just make out a new sound - the methodical scrape of a broom sweeping leaves in the distance.

The cat stood up, ears pricked, tail twitching.

Muraki straightened. One hand was already reaching inside his jacket by the time he turned around.

"You're not thinking of using your gun, are you? It's considered sacrilegious to harm life in a Buddhist temple."

Slowly Muraki eased his hand away. "You seem remarkably composed under the circumstances, Tsuzuki-san."

"The Yakuza are hardly going to announce their arrival by doing the gardening, right? It's most likely the temple caretaker." Tsuzuki patted the bench. "Stop worrying and sit down."

Muraki lifted his brows at the authoritative tone. "Very well."

"Take out your knife." Tsuzuki pulled out a handful of illusion fuda. "I need a small blood sample."

Muraki began undoing his tie. "You've come to your senses at last."

"That's not what I--" The rest of his words were smothered against Muraki's long throat.

"Feed now. Your teeth are as sharp as any blade. My body is yours."

"No!" Tsuzuki shoved against Muraki's chest. His fingers scrabbled over the jacket until he found the penknife.

The cat watched them, tail twitching. "Stop playing. Enough now."

"It's not me, it's him!" Tsuzuki grabbed one of Muraki's roving hands. "I'm doing this for your own good!" He nicked the side of a fingertip. A drop of blood oozed from the wound.

"You can hear it. So you've opened your ears at last."

Taking advantage of Muraki's lack of resistance, Tsuzuki squeezed blood from the cut. He let drops fall over the paper charms and soak into the written spells. "There. That should be enough." At Muraki's quizzical look he explained, "Your illusion doubles will confuse your pursuers. It will give you time to escape."

"No. I must deal with them once and for all. I finish what I start--"

"I don't want you killing anyone! I...I order you not to kill anyone." Giving any kind of order to Muraki felt strange, even now. "If you are serious about being mine, then you must obey me when it comes to this. I won't tolerate you taking away life." He released Muraki's hand and took out a bandage plaster. "For you."

"You came prepared." Muraki began to unwrap it. "You planned this in advance."

"You said you were a changed man because of me, remember? Your transplant racket is over, your research laboratory destroyed. Killing for energy or sacrifice is unnecessary now. You can't use those reasons as an excuse to kill anymore."

"What about self-defence?"

Tsuzuki flicked through the fuda with the ease of a dealer shuffling cards. "Leave that to me." He placed them in his breast pocket.

Muraki looked closely at him for several seconds, his own features speculative. "I see." He bowed his head, the very picture of humble obedience. "Then I suppose I'll have no other motive but to kill for pleasure."

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki grasped his throat and shook hard. "This is no joking matter! I'm serious, dammit! Give me your word that you will never kill again."

"My word? Why? I don't believe in making empty promises. Why give one's word when it could be rendered obsolete by a memory lapse or momentary inattention? No, the word you seek is one that resides in yourself - the word that will release the power within. Already you've started to regain some of your abilities - merely a fraction of your full potential." He ran one finger along Tsuzuki's clenched jaw. "The rest will return to you soon enough."

"I'm fine with the way I am. I'm not after that kind of power." Tsuzuki hauled Muraki closer, until their lips almost touched. "I seek...something different."

"Do you?" His deep intimate voice sent shivers down Tsuzuki's spine. "Tell me...and I will do what I can to help you. Your power could be limitless if you only knew how to tap it."

"What I'm after...can only be given by free and open consent." Tsuzuki looked into Muraki's eyes, his own gaze unwavering. He could see the false eye glowing softly from behind his fringe. "Yours."

"_My_ consent...?" Muraki's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Isn't our current arrangement pleasing enough? You seem more than satisfied with my methods--"

"Then forget it. These magical powers can remain sealed forever for all I care." He pushed Muraki away. "If they won't change anything between us, I don't want them."

"Tsuzuki-san..."

The cat leapt into Muraki's lap. "He's coming! He's coming!"

Both men looked up as one - Muraki scowling as he clutched the wriggling animal with one hand, Tsuzuki flushing while he extricated himself from Muraki's arm encircling his waist.

A little old man shuffled towards them. If he had been a bit shorter and several decades younger, he could have passed for the stone Jizo statues in the courtyard. He wore the simple garb of a monk and held a broom in one hand. His long beard and eyebrows half-covered his face, while the top of his head was as bare as the statues around him.

"Good evening and welcome. Allow me to introduce myself - I am the caretaker here. Thank you for visiting this humble place of worship."

Tsuzuki turned red. Genbu probably saw everything. So much for acting like a master. Hastily he stood up and bowed in greeting. "Good evening. My name is Tsuzuki. You have a lovely tranquil place here."

Muraki was silent. He and the cat were equally spellbound by the old man.

"You may remain anonymous if you wish. You are here to pray to Jizo, so he is the one to whom you must unburden your heart. Please don't let me interrupt your meditations." He cast a thoughtful look at the wooden cane resting on the bench behind Tsuzuki. "I must return to work. I must tend this garden and nourish the soil. It has been neglected too long in my absence." He shuffled away, dragging the broom behind him.

Tsuzuki returned to his seat. "Well...he doesn't look like one of the Yakuza, does he?"

"No." Muraki's gaze held a wealth of meaning. "Not at all."

The cat jumped from Muraki's lap and followed Genbu.

"Where's it going?"

"Cats are curious creatures. There's no suppressing such innate traits."

Near the gateway entrance, Genbu swept leaves into a large pile. The cat crouched low to the ground a safe distance away, stalking him.

Genbu would be safe. Tsuzuki had every faith in the Black Warrior.

He picked up the cane and absently stamped it on the ground. "Muraki, I've been thinking. Over the past few days, we've come to know each other well...in a physical sense. But we haven't spent time talking and getting to know each other. Maybe if we could talk more - try to understand each other - then we wouldn't argue so much."

"You want to make small talk?"

"I just want to know about your background. Tell me about your hobbies, your family, the friends you have...things like that. Tell me about your life in Tokyo."

"These irrelevant details have nothing to do with us." He placed his cool grip over Tsuzuki's restless fingers, holding the cane still. "I discarded my old life the night you blessed me with steel."

"A life cannot be cast off away like a snake's skin. Are you so sure you want to throw it away?" With his other hand, Tsuzuki took out a blood-stained fuda and flicked it with his fingers. "Maybe it's time you remember what you stand to lose."

"What's that?" Muraki reached for it.

Tsuzuki let it go. The paper charm fluttered free, carried up by the wind. "If you won't tell me about your past, I'll see for myself. We'll both see together."

The temple grounds receded before them into a swirling grey mist.

"What is this? What are you doing?"

"The illusion fuda absorbed an imprint of your physical being and psychological state. Key memories, elements of your character - the fuda retains these too. I can then use it to fashion a doppelganger that imitates your behaviour...or project your memories to form an illusion like this."

People were coming out of the haze, young and old. Some looked well, flushed with health. Others were pale and thin, hollow-eyed, lips tinged blue. But they were all smiling as they crowded close, and they repeated the same words over and over like a mantra:

"Please, sensei. Thank you, sensei. Please, sensei. Thank you, sensei..."

"Are all of them your patients?" Tsuzuki was amazed at their numbers. There had to be hundreds of them.

Muraki's face was like marble stone. He looked into space, unseeing, unresponsive.

Tsuzuki gently shook Muraki's shoulder. "Look at them. These are the people you've helped."

"_Tried_ to help."

"But they're all thanking you. They're grateful to you for trying your best."

"Some have nothing to be grateful for." Muraki was speaking through clenched teeth. "Look into their eyes."

"I can't believe it. You've done so much for so many people..." Tsuzuki had to stifle his awe. Surely a person who helped so many couldn't be all bad. Perhaps he'd been motivated by ambition and greed and ego, but Muraki must have a shred of compassion too. How could he not be moved by their heartfelt words? "They respect you. They admire and appreciate you. They value the work you do. They place their hopes in you. By leaving your career, you're leaving them too!"

"They are fools. In medical science there is no hope, merely statistics. Doctors are deified out of ignorance. Humans find more certainty in myth and superstition than science. That is why religion flourishes even today."

"Is that your reason for embracing the occult? But the only certainty about a demonic covenant is the way it manipulates those foolish enough to agree to one!"

"Let me show you the foolish ones. Observe this elderly lady."

She was frail and thin, her body mere skin and bone. "Please, sensei. Thank you, sensei." She reached out to him. "Please, sensei. Thank you, sensei."

Muraki held her hand. "She came to me with severe mitral valve regurgitation after a myocardial infarct."

"Is she making a ticking noise? What is that?"

"Her mechanical prosthesis. Many of the older models are audible without a stethoscope." Muraki seized her by the throat. She choked and wheezed, her arms wriggling in mid-air.

"Muraki! Stop it!"

"It doesn't matter. I've already carved open her chest wall and heart with her consent. In retrospect, asphyxiating her the moment she came to me would have been the kinder gesture."

"How the hell can you say--"

He tossed her into Tsuzuki's lap. "Look in her eyes. Read what is there."

"Please, sensei," she whimpered. Her rheumy eyes were lost, devoid of hope. Her cheeks and eyesockets were hollows in her face. "Thank you, sensei. Please, sensei." A bony hand clawed at Tsuzuki's sleeve.

She was little more than an animated skeleton. Her skull-like visage was the face of death.

"She suffered a second infarct after the surgery, went into cardiac arrest followed by massive hypoxic brain damage. Two years on, she lives in a semi-conscious state thanks to an artificial feeding tube and the tireless care of her family who refuse to let her go." His lips twisted. "However, her valve remains in excellent working condition to this day. A successful outcome, ne?"

"They...they aren't all like this. Don't focus only on your failures. Look at your successes."

"In the end, they will die too. Everyone dies. Medical science arbitrarily selects 'five-year survival' as the marker for a curative outcome, but the reality is that we all die. The patients I successfully treat have merely been given the opportunity to die of something else. Death wins. Death always wins." He closed his eyes. "Enough. I have no regrets in leaving behind my surgical career. Every face here...a reminder of my defeat. I want no part of it anymore." He turned to Tsuzuki, his false eye glowing. "I wash my hands of it."

The people around them receded into the swirling grey mist.

"Okay then." Tsuzuki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You want to leave your career. But what about your friends? Are you going to leave them behind too?"

"I have no need of 'friends'." Muraki spat the last word out. "A 'friend' cannot give me what I need." He pulled Tsuzuki close.

"Hey, Muraki!" It was a drawling masculine voice that lacked the deference of the patients. "Don't tell me you're sulking on your own with the mizuko again."

"Kazu-kun?" The soft lilting voice of a young woman. "Are you there?"

Muraki froze.

"Sound like anyone you know?" Tsuzuki asked.

* * *

The cat knew something was wrong. 

Muraki wasn't moving or speaking. He seemed caught in a trance, his gaze blank. By his side, Tsuzuki observed him like a hawk. Above them, the fuda charm floated in mid-air.

"What are you doing?" The feline rushed towards them. "Leave him alone!"

"Stay!" the old man commanded. He stamped his foot.

The earth rumbled and shook. A slab of granite surged out from under the cat's feet. It thrust the yowling creature ten metres into the air before coming to an abrupt stop.

"How...how did you do that?" it cried. It was a sheer drop to the ground. The rock afforded little grip for its claws. The cat crouched low, preparing itself to jump.

The old man smiled up at him. "You risk injuring your host if you fall from this height. The species you inhabit has an inflated belief in its physical agility. For your own safety and his, remain where you are."

"I knew you were hiding your emanations!" The cat lashed its tail. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"My name is my own, just as yours belongs to you." He began sweeping once more. "Your master is being tested - in the same way he has tested mine."

* * *

"Kazu-kun? Where have you been? We've been looking for you everywhere." 

"You idiot. Always thinking the same stubborn way about yourself. You were too proud to listen to anyone else."

Two distinct voices, strong and clear. They came from the mist, but they lacked substance or form.

Tsuzuki tapped his index finger on the cane handle. This was odd. "Your friends are calling, Muraki. They seem worried about you."

"Hey, Muraki! You there?"

The swirling mist began to thicken around them.

Weird. Muraki obviously knew them. Their voices rang with clarity. So why couldn't the illusion fuda generate their form?

"Don't you want to see them? They sound eager to see you. Say something to them."

"Kazu-kun? Can you hear me? Kazu-kun!"

Tsuzuki winced. It was impossible not to be moved by her distress. Whoever she was, she must be very fond of Muraki. How could he be so indifferent to her pain? Or could it be...

"Is she...someone special?"

Muraki broke out of his trance. "Don't call her that!" he snarled.

It had to be true. Tsuzuki felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

He laughed too loudly to cover his shock. "With a sweet voice like that, she must be very pretty." He elbowed Muraki in the ribs. "No wonder you want to keep her to yourself! But I promise not to make a move on her. She'll be safe with me."

"She means nothing to me! Nothing!"

"I want to see you again!" Her voice trembled on the brink of giving way. "Kazu-kun, please!"

"Are you sure? You seem to mean a great deal to her."

Thick black fog rolled in from all sides, but it couldn't silence the voices. Muraki's hands were balled into white-knuckled fists. His jaw was clenched, his eyes tightly shut.

Where was this fog coming from? Was Muraki battling the spell from within? No, it couldn't be. The fuda's integrity remained intact - as the spellcaster, Tsuzuki was sure of it. It could only be coming from the fuda - stained with Muraki's blood.

"Kazu-kun, I know you're out there!"

"You haven't changed a bit." The man's voice again. "You always kept your cards close to your chest. You never opened up to anyone. You only presented the same arrogant smile to the world - the face of a puppet."

Something curled around Tsuzuki's cane. This wasn't fog. It was thick impenetrable shadow darkness.

"Answer me, Kazu-kun! I know you can hear me!"

"Of all the..." A horrible idea struck Tsuzuki. "Is this part of your covenant - the masking of your memories? Does he expect you to give up your mind as well as your body?"

Muraki placed his right hand over his chest. His fingers clenched into his shirt.

"Don't let him get away with it. Don't let him win." Tsuzuki shook him for emphasis. "Don't let him steal the memories of the ones you love. Tell me the demon's name, and I'll help you return to them--"

Muraki lunged for Tsuzuki's throat.

Tsuzuki dodged and swung the cane up to block him.

Muraki was faster. He seized the cane with both hands. Both men toppled off the seat, Muraki crashing on top of Tsuzuki. The cane's shaft was poised inches from Tsuzuki's throat. Only Tsuzuki's white-knuckled resistance kept it from crushing his windpipe.

Up close, Muraki's eyes were shining red slits. There was no discernable pattern or writing on either eye for Tsuzuki to read. But what chilled Tsuzuki the most was Muraki's face - a blank expressionless mask.

"The parasite awakes...at last. Identify yourself!"

It didn't speak. The swirling darkness curled around them both, silencing the illusion voices.

"You block my fuda...but you're too weak to take full possession, huh?" Tsuzuki taunted. "Don't push me too far. If I harm your host, you'll suffer too."

The red glow in his eyes became brighter. Muraki's weight became heavier, far heavier than a normal human. It pressed into Tsuzuki, crushing the air from his lungs. The darkness thickened, clouding his vision of Muraki's face.

Daring to call Tsuzuki's bluff.

Tsuzuki swore under his breath. He had to retreat. "He may be a human...but his spirit is strong. Covenant or not...I won't let him be your puppet. I won't let him forget...who he really is." Tsuzuki took a deep breath in and shouted with all his might, "Muraki! Muraki!"

The shadowy wisps rippled and thinned. The red light in Muraki's good eye dimmed.

"Muraakii! That's your name, you idiot! Muraakii! Muraakiii Kazutaakaaaa!"

Muraki's grip over the cane became lax. The light in the false eye receded to form four glowing points. He blinked and focused, banishing the glassy stare.

"Tsuzuki-san..."

Tsuzuki sighed in relief, and broke the illusion spell. "Muraki...it's you, isn't it?"

"Yes." Muraki gazed down at Tsuzuki, and the cane trapped between them. "How did we come to be in this compromising position?"

Tsuzuki pulled the cane free and pushed him off. "Believe me, it wasn't my idea."

"Oh." Muraki sat up, a little disappointed.

"Muraki." Tsuzuki placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you know what happened just then?"

Muraki nodded slowly. "I can't believe it," he whispered. He suddenly nuzzled Tsuzuki's cheek. "Did I actually hear you call me by my first name?"

Tsuzuki turned beet-red. Hastily he stood up. "You were acting like a zombie! Why don't you ask me about that?"

"Was I?" Muraki took stock of himself, sitting on the grass. He saw the paper charm floating to the ground, and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Hmmph. I suppose it was the work of your bizarre fuda magic. You take delight in using it to make a fool of me."

"No, that wasn't the reason! It was you and your covenant!"

Genbu stood patiently by a rock pillar, his arms folded. Waiting. Tsuzuki shook his head.

"Get me down!" the cat yowled. "I see them! They're coming!"

"How did it get up there?"

"It was going to interfere. I took care not to harm it as you requested."

"Oh. Good work." Tsuzuki gave the rock an experimental push. "You can get rid of this, right?"

"What for? _This_ is a piece of stone worthy of worship. This monolith is a symbol of Earth's virility!"

"Virility? What...why...what do you need to prove your virility for?"

"I do this for the Earth. Humans view Earth as a resource to be plundered and desecrated. It is my duty to display Earth's might and power so humans will remember to show it the respect it deserves."

"Most impressive..." Muraki was standing before the monolith, his clinical gaze taking in the bizarre rock pillar, the cat perched on top, and finally resting on the old man guarding its base. "Especially when one considers the size of its creator." He chuckled as he combed one hand through his hair. "Tsuzuki-san, your execrable choice in acquaintances never ceases to amaze me."

"Hey! Show some respect to the aged!"

"I am not offended," Genbu reassured him. "He has aimed his barb at you, yet unwittingly injures himself with its implications."

"Stop it, all of you!" The cat lashed its tail, hissing. "Listen to me! They're almost here! Two black cars coming up the road!"

"The Yakuza? How did they know you'd be here?"

Muraki slid his glasses up his nose. "Because I told them."

"You...you did what? What the hell for?"

"This is a beautiful location for a secret assignation, ne? Isolated, peaceful, private...and completely free of witnesses, present company excepted. Perfectly suited for my purposes."

Tsuzuki's jaw dropped. "You...you planned this all along. When you prepared your gun, I thought it was for self-defence!"

"The best form of defence is offence, Tsuzuki-san. Those who ignore this truth do so at their peril."

Tsuzuki took hold of his arm. "Muraki, let me handle them--"

"I finish what I start, for better or worse." Muraki shook himself off, and fastidiously straightened his jacket. "The time for hiding is over."

Tsuzuki grabbed the lapels of his suit and spun him around. "This is an order, Muraki! You keep saying you're mine - now prove it by obeying me!"

"Do you want a coward for a consort?" Muraki gripped his jaw. "Through my deeds I will prove myself worthy to stand at your side. Surely this is what you want as well."

"I want you to listen! No more murders! No more killing! Give me your word!"

Muraki chuckled. "You remind me of a spoilt child. What do you think I am - a pet you can command as you please?"

"You..."

Muraki seized both his wrists in a crushing grip. "You reveal your intentions in advance. That's what makes you so easy to predict...and so much fun to play with." His false eye began to glow white. "Two can play at that game now."

Tsuzuki wrenched himself away. "Lower the rock!"

Genbu stamped his foot. The ground shuddered, and the pillar began to descend.

"Interesting." Muraki eyed the little man with new respect. "A minor Earth shikigami, I presume?"

Genbu's response was an inscrutable smile.

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki's voice trembled with seething rage. "I will never accept a callous murderer for a...a 'consort.'" He almost spat the word out. "Remember that." His form winked into nothingness.

The old man bowed. "It is a generous warden who allows his captive to choose his prison. A walled dungeon versus a virtual Eden - the decision is yours." He vanished in a cloud of black smoke.

The cat waited for the pillar to reach a safe height before leaping to the ground. "What does that mean? What is he talking about?"

Muraki picked up the cane Tsuzuki left behind, his expression brooding. He held the wood in his clenched hands as if he longed to snap it in two.

"Don't be fooled," the cat warned. "His spiritual presence is strong! He said he wanted to test you!"

It was twilight in the temple courtyard, the sky lit with a gold-pink glow from the retreating sun. The sea breeze was beginning to pick up. Muraki closed his eyes as the cool air caressed his skin through the layers of clothes. Its touch seemed to soothe the furrows from his brow.

In the distance, he could hear the whup-whup of a helicopter.

He opened his eyes and tossed the cane over his shoulder. It hit the ground with a dull thud.

Muraki smiled anyway. "Come," he said to the cat. "We must greet these prospective assassins of mine, ne?"

* * *

In the Hall of Candles, Watson entered one of the many sitting rooms balancing a three-tiered tray the same height as himself. It held a mouth-watering selection of finger sandwiches, fruit tarts, small iced cupcakes, buttery French pastries, and scones with cream and a range of fruit preserves. 

"Thank you, Watson. As far as I'm concerned, it's never too late in the day to serve high tea." Hakushaku held up the teapot. "Would you like some more?"

"No." Seated in the high-backed chair facing him, the guest barely acknowledged his presence. His shadowed gaze was riveted to the violet candle, now safely ensconced within the glass chimney of a hurricane lamp.

"Suit yourself." Hakushaku refilled his own cup. "You haven't even touched it. Is it not to your liking?" Untroubled by the guest's silence, he chuckled. "Why so worried? You've had more than seventy years of docility - more or less - far longer than any of the others. It would be extremely foolish - and arrogant - not to have made a contingency plan for such an eventuality."

The man didn't answer.

"Unless...you fell for it too." Hakushaku steepled his gloved fingers in front of him. "Secure in your fortress, jealously guarding your face - did it not occur to you that he would learn to do the same? The playful puppy guise was his method for concealing the wolf lurking within. And it worked so well! He's been embraced as one of them, welcomed into the fold without question..." Hakushaku's mask shook with laughter. "He's even managed to fool himself!"

The flame flickered once, then again, as if nodding in agreement.

"But there's no escaping from one's intrinsic nature. We know that better than most, ne? We only need to look into those beautiful eyes to see the truth."

Candlelight danced across the guest's clenched jaw. For an instant, the light illuminated his gaze - a searing flash of pure crystalline violet.

* * *

There were four burly men marching his way, all dressed in identical off-the-rack black suits. Three of them brandished firearms. 

How could they expect to look threatening in such ill-fitting outfits? Muraki found small satisfaction in knowing he'd persuaded Tsuzuki to ditch the unflattering suit he was wearing earlier.

"Muraki Kazutaka?"

"Gentlemen." He smiled pleasantly. "How can I help you?"

From behind his legs, the cat hissed at them.

"We have instructions to take you into custody. Armed men surround the grounds and block access to the road. We have our helicopter patrolling the airspace."

"How thoughtful. You've considered all possibilities."

"Please surrender your weapons and come with us. There is no escape this time, sensei."

"Excellent." Muraki slowly removed his glasses. "I always enjoy a challenge."

A powerful gust of wind howled through the temple grounds, picking up leaves and grit. The men cowered against the sudden onslaught of flying particles.

"After him! He's getting away!"

But Muraki remained standing, both arms outstretched, his hands lifted skyward. His clothes flapped, and his hair flowed in the wind, yet he was untouched by the airborne debris.

Above them, the wind played havoc with the helicopter. It rocked from side to side, up and down, then pitched head first and hurtled down.

"It's coming for us! Run for it!" The armed men fled.

"Get back here, cowards! Grab him first!"

The earth shook and cracked open. A geyser of hot water gushed high into the air. It struck the helicopter and sent it sideways. Dislodged from the cockpit, the pilot began to fall.

"Well, well," Muraki murmured. He watched the pilot decelerate in defiance of gravity. He was lowered to the ground by an invisible force, unconscious yet unharmed. "Quixotic to the end. You truly are a fool."

The helicopter slammed into a nearby hillside and exploded in a ball of fire.

"Shit! The rumours about you are true!" The leader drew his gun. "Stop the tricks now or I'll shoot!"

"Tricks?" Muraki lifted a brow. "Whatever do you mean?"

The muzzle of the gun ripped into two. Each half began folding in on itself like a concertina.

"What the..." He dropped the gun. The cat leapt for his hand, hissing and scratching and biting. "Arrgh! Get off me!"

Muraki turned around and took out his own firearm. "Now...where are your companions? I don't want to neglect them."

A staccato of gunfire erupted outside the grounds, followed by the ear-splitting screech of twisting, crunching metal.

"Foolish humans," a deep voice rumbled. The ground trembled in sympathy. "Gouging the earth to pollute the air. Foolish, foolish humans."

Terrified men ran inside from all directions, shouting and screaming. Some were clutching bleeding wounds. Others looked too shell-shocked to form coherent words.

"Uwaaaaaah!"

"We're gonna die! We're gonna die!"

"That bastard's managed to clone an army of himself! His doubles are out there hurling knives! Hell, maybe one of them is the real one!"

"A fricking dinosaur is stomping on our cars! Whatta we gonna do!"

"Hmm." Muraki could see a massive silhouette shifting against the fading light, growling and thumping. "What a hypocritical show-off you are, Tsuzuki-san."

The feline retreated from its attack, most annoyed. "He won't eat me! I can't absorb his energy!"

"Take him!" The leader pointed a bloody finger at Muraki. "Dead or alive - I don't care! He's only one man, dammit!"

Men rushed forward, guns firing - each bullet a promise of lethal injury.

Muraki smiled. His false eye glowed.

En masse, the bullets swerved around him. Not a single one grazed his flesh. The hair on his head, even the clothes he wore remained untouched. Once they had finished, there was an eerie silence - a pregnant pause more deafening that the cacophony of gunfire.

"Your mastery of metal is incomplete, gentlemen. You manipulate your tools without appreciation, let alone artistry."

"I knew it," one of them muttered. "He's not human. I'm outta here!" He turned to flee.

Muraki lifted his gun. "Let me show you how it's done."

The earth rumbled its displeasure. The ground heaved and trembled, sending every person tumbling to the ground. A wide fissure split the ground, dividing Muraki and the cat from the hitmen. The air over the fissure shimmered to reveal Genbu in snake-tortoise form, his spike-studded carapace towering over everyone. He stood astride the fissure, his fearsome crocodile-like muzzle hovering before Muraki.

"Arrrgh! The dinosaur!" The men scrambled in all directions.

Tsuzuki was seated atop Genbu's head, gilded by the silvery light of the rising moon. The front of his suit and shirt was smeared with blood, as were his hands. He could have been a victorious emperor laying waste to conquered land but for the sadness in his eyes.

"You don't need to kill anymore. They know they can't touch you. You've already proven yourself the victor. Put down your gun."

"Hah! Look at you, stained with the blood of others! Why must you be the only one to hold a monopoly over death and destruction? Isn't it said that sharing a pleasure doubles one's enjoyment?

"There is no 'pleasure' in wielding power if all you deliver is chaos! Destroying everything you touch - where is the enjoyment in that? Letting everyone down again and again even though you try your best..." Tsuzuki's shoulders slumped, his anger deserting him. "I guess it sounds all too familiar to you. But I know that if we compared our occupational failures, my list would be a lot longer than yours. You think being a surgeon is a futile job? Well, being a shinigami is nothing to be proud of, either. If anything, it's worse." Tsuzuki looked down at his hands. "A shinigami's motivations were never noble in the first place."

Muraki studied him, head tilted to one side. "This knowledge causes you much pain, doesn't it?"

"I know you feel the same pain - that's why you abandoned your career. But wanton vandalism won't heal the wound within your heart. It only leads to more self-loathing and bitterness and misery - a self-perpetuating cycle of loneliness."

Something contorted Muraki's features - a momentary anguish or pain, it was hard to tell.

"It doesn't have to be like this. Let's end it now." Tsuzuki held out his hand. "Come with me...Kazutaka."

Muraki stared at the hand for a long moment. His gaze seemed hungry, longing. "The last person who called me by that name was my mother." He lowered his gaze. "I wanted to please her. I sought to emulate her." He turned around and began to walk away. "Most of all, I wanted to be the one to crush her."

"Muraki! What the... Come back!"

Muraki swung around and sprinted towards the fissure. Aided by a sudden gust of wind, he cleared the gap with the agility of a cheetah.

"Muraki! Genbu, after him!"

Genbu began to turn, his heavy footsteps shaking the earth.

"Hey! Wait for me!" the cat cried.

Genbu scooped up the cat with a whip of his tail and tossed him into the air. He arched his long neck up so Tsuzuki could catch it.

"Gotcha." Tsuzuki placed him in his lap. "Hold on tight!"

Genbu lurched into a rumbling stampede. His footfalls brought the earth to life. Geysers of hot steam spewed in Muraki's path. Cracks crisscrossed the ground. Granite pillars sprouted to block his way.

Muraki dodged and leapt and sidestepped these obstacles with exquisite timing.

Tsuzuki clutched the spikes adorning Genbu's head, awestruck. Muraki looked fit enough, but this ability was more than human.

Trailing in his wake, Genbu ploughed straight through them.

Ahead were several of the hitmen. "There he is! He's coming this way!"

"No, Muraki! Don't do it!"

Without a pause, Muraki lifted his gun and fired five shots. All five men fell like neatly aligned dominoes.

"Precision reflexes," Genbu rasped.

"The bastard..." Tsuzuki muttered.

Gunshots rang out from another group of men. Muraki swerved towards them, two hunting knives at the ready.

Genbu galloped into his path, his black carapace blocking the way. His neck whipped forward, his gold eyes flashing, jaws bared to unveil snake-like fangs and sulfurous breath. Kneeling on his head, Tsuzuki clutched the spikes for support.

"Stop it, Muraki! Listen to me, damn you!"

Muraki dodged.

Genbu wheeled around and whipped his lower neck to form a loose coil around Muraki. He tightened it, his head arching over its centre, ready to strike.

Fearlessly Muraki struck out. Genbu hissed and writhed, narrowly avoiding the slashing blades. Tsuzuki and the cat almost fell as Genbu whipped his sinuous neck free and tried to bite Muraki at the same time.

"Be careful with him! Genbuuuu!"

The coils fell away for a moment. It was all Muraki needed. He leapt through the opening and hurled himself into the hail of oncoming bullets. He swept one guy aside with a gash to the throat, and used the same knife to pierce another in the chest. Blood spilled on his hands. The sight excited him to a frenzy of bloodshed. Using both knives, he disembowelled one man, then pirouetted around to decapitate another. Others he used as pin-cushions, savagely stabbing them in the chest and abdomen. Their sickening groans and squeals were interspersed with the crunch of knife against bone and the squelch of blood splattering the ground.

Genbu watched the gruesome dance with keen darting eyes. Tsuzuki covered his face with his hands. The cat looked on with greedy longing.

The last man fell away. Muraki swirled around, drenched in blood, triumphant. "Tsuzuki-san..." His voice was breathless, husky. "You were wrong...about the joys of wanton vandalism." He laughed. "It's been too long...since I last killed..."

"Watch out!" the cat cried out. "Behind your left!"

A man dived for him, but Muraki neatly sidestepped and knifed him twice beneath the ribs. He fell face down with a thud.

Muraki turned him over. "Why...it's the spokesman of the group." he said pleasantly. "You should've fled when you had the chance."

"Muraki Kazutaka..." he gasped, "...you are under arrest..."

Tsuzuki lifted his head. "What did he say?"

"Nothing." Muraki sheathed his knives and pulled out his gun. A single shot rang out with the certainty of death itself. "Nothing at all."

"Did he just say...? These men...don't tell me they're police?"

Muraki lowered himself down to check the pockets of their leader. "Does it matter? Death doesn't discriminate between good and evil."

"All this time..." Tsuzuki's hands clenched into fists. ".All this time I thought you needed protection from the Yakuza when you were a criminal on the run from the law! You lied all this time! Everything you've said...all a pack of lies!"

Muraki checked a wallet, then dropped it on the man's chest. "I didn't lie. You came to your own conclusions." He studied the man's hands lying lifelessly by his side. They were unmarked, clean.

He frowned, brows furrowed together. Where were the scratches inflicted by the cat? How could he heal so fast? Unless...

"Tsuzuki-san!" Muraki bellowed. He surged to his feet. "What's the meaning of this?"

Tsuzuki was gone. Only the cat sat upon Genbu's head, tail lashing. "He's a double!" it yowled. "He's been a double all along!"

Genbu's gold eyes glowed. "He wasn't the only double."

The bloody corpses exploded into a blizzard of fluttering paper charms speckled with blood.

Tsuzuki waited for him in the eye of the fuda storm, the wooden cane hanging in the crook of his elbow. "You idiot." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Come to me now, Muraki."

Muraki let out an anguished roar. He charged towards Tsuzuki, a wounded bull seeking vengeance. He thrust the knife to the hilt into Tsuzuki's heart.

Tsuzuki buckled over. He grabbed Muraki by the shoulders in a fierce hug. "No murderer...can be my consort..." With his other hand, he enveloped Muraki's face with blinding white light.

Muraki's gaze went blank. He slumped against Tsuzuki's shoulder.

Slowly Tsuzuki let him fall to the ground, then crouched over in a trembling coughing fit. He spat out clotted blood. Gritting his teeth, he gripped the knife handle and yanked it out. A small gush of blood left the wound, followed by a slow trickle.

Tsuzuki wiped his damp brow with one sleeve. Knives couldn't kill a shinigami, but the pain of a stab wound felt all too real. He pulled out the barrier fuda he'd concealed in Muraki's jacket. "Completely intact. He didn't even use it once, Genbu."

"The quicksilver speed of Wind combined with impressive control over Metal. Those crude metal projectile weapons were never going to harm him. Yet it was his human characteristics that emerged when he lost his temper. Truly a chimera."

"Doubles..." the cat meowed. "Doubles everywhere. _You_ were the one tricking _him_ all along."

"Payback for all the tricks he's played on me."

"We were testing him," Genbu corrected. "We need to assess the extent of his abilities and obedience."

"Testing? What for?"

"I wasn't sure it would work," Tsuzuki explained. "He knew how to find me through my invisibility cloak, remember. Luckily for me he couldn't tell me apart from my illusion fuda at a distance." He brushed aside the silver hair to look at his face. "He must have used up too much of his spiritual energy during the fight."

"I couldn't detect you either," the cat said. "You're better at concealing your emanations. Your power is growing."

Tsuzuki lifted Muraki in his arms. "Damn, he's heavy."

"He will make a most interesting exhibit," Genbu said. "Shall I make the necessary preparations?"

Pensively Tsuzuki observed Muraki's sleeping face. He tightened his grip.

"Preparations for what?" the cat asked. It clawed uselessly at the leathery skin on Genbu's head. "Tell me!"

"We have to get those injured men to a hospital. I don't think they're badly hurt, but they should be checked over." He grimaced. "Those Muraki fuda doubles have a mind of their own. They're as vicious and stubborn as the original. They refused to listen to a word I said."

"Your only miscalculation. Fortunately you extinguished them in time. What about the other unconscious men?"

"They won't remember a thing. Let's leave them at the hospital too - explain we found them in a road accident." Tsuzuki began trudging out of the temple grounds by moonlight, Genbu following him. "The way you flattened their cars - it's like a steamroller ran them over."

"It was for the good of the earth. The earth has been depleted in my absence--"

"All right! You've had your fun, haven't you? I don't want to hear any more complaints about how I never use you, okay?"

"But it's the truth. For years, you have neglected me--"

"Hey!" the cat yowled. "You didn't answer me! What test? What test are you talking about? I know you can both hear me!"

Tsuzuki surveyed the scene. The hillside fire was burning itself out. The temple grounds were cracked, steam rising out of the multiple fissures. Rock pillars lay toppled on the ground, resembling the end of a giant's game of dominoes. Shattered Jizo statues were strewn everywhere. The altar was the only structure still standing.

He'd done much worse during his battles with demons. At least no one had died. The only smouldering ashes were the debris from the crashed helicopter - and his hopes for sending Muraki back to his former life.

"Don't worry, Genbu. I'll speak to Tenkuu tomorrow."

Genbu bowed his head. "As you wish."


	22. Ouroboros

The receptionist at the medical clinic in Shimabara was speechless. She'd returned to her desk to find several men, all wearing dark suits, all very unconscious, lying sprawled over the chairs in the waiting room.

Most salarymen restricted their drunken binges to Friday or Saturday nights so they could recover in bed the next day. How irresponsible of them to drown their sorrows so early in the working week.

A knocking sound came from below. "Ahem!"

She peered over her desk to find a little old man with a long beard and bushy eyebrows that drooped over his eyes. In his hand he held a granite staff.

"I wish to place these humans in your care. May you treat them with the respect and consideration they have manifestly failed to demonstrate for the Earth that sustains them." He bowed once, then turned around.

"Wait! Who...who are you? How did you find them?"

"They are vandals who have turned the elements against each other, using Metal to gouge Earth and defile Air. The Earth responded in kind by rebuking them for their blasphemy." He stamped the staff on the ground, and a tremor shook the premises. "Now I must go to work and nourish the Earth in the limited time I have left."

* * *

Watari spent the evening in his laboratory. Amid the reassuring hum of the computers, the bubbling of a chemical potion, and the occasional flutter of 003 preening her feathers, he mixed solutions in test tubes and scribbled notes. 

"You owe me a month's worth of sweets for this, Tsuzuki," he muttered. "Hair analysis normally takes several days in the land of the living. If it wasn't for my ingenuity, state-of-the-art facilities and dedication to the advancement of modern science..."

He paused, holding one test tube to the light. A bit cloudy. He flicked the tube with his fingertips to disperse the mixture.

"If only he'd taken the time to ask me in advance, I could have recommended taking a blood sample. There are standardised ranges in the literature defining normal and abnormal mineral levels in serum. But in hair? It's highly controversial, unless you're looking for long-term heavy metal poisoning. What I really need for an accurate mineral analysis is a teaspoon of blood."

003 ruffled her feathers and shook her head.

"What's the problem? It's not like they haven't played with sharp objects together. Tsuzuki should know how to handle him - more or less. Probably." Watari did his best to sound convincing. "Well, lucky for Tsuzuki his body heals so fast. Okay, let's do a trial run."

He began pouring a sample from one test tube into a measuring cuvette, then placed it in a spectrophotometer to take readings. The machines hummed, the computer screen lit up, and the attached printer buzzed into life. Satisfied, Watari followed the same procedure with the other samples. When he was done, he took a closer look at the printout.

"Hmm. I'm not getting any measurements at all." Watari drummed his fingers. "I did follow the extraction procedure to the letter. Let me try a new test sample." He pulled at his own hair, winced, and took out a couple of strands. "The sacrifices I make for my work. Now I need another experimental subject, 003. May I have one of your feathers?"

003 went into a panic. She flapped her wings and hovered in mid-air.

"Stop! You'll contaminate the samples if you keep that up!"

003 landed on Watari's mass of wavy blond locks. She replied by pecking at his scalp.

"Oww! Stop that! I've already donated one of mine!"

003 roosted herself out of harm's way on Watari's head. She ruffled her feathers in displeasure, then began preening her wings.

Something ticklish brushed Watari's forehead and floated down to land on his notebook - a single plume.

"Aha! That's more than enough for my needs. I knew you wouldn't let me down. Now let's get to work!"

* * *

Tsuzuki materialised inside Muraki's bedroom. Within his arms Muraki remained a dead weight, his silver head nestled in the crook of Tsuzuki's shoulder. At his feet was the restless grey cat. 

"Genbu can't help lecturing everyone about his pet topic. Not that I don't appreciate what he's trying to do." He laid Muraki on the bed in a sprawled heap. "But it's not the time and place. Thank goodness he agreed to return to Gensoukai."

The cat leapt on the bed by Muraki's side and nuzzled one of the ruby earrings. "He is weak. He drained the Earth energy you gave him this morning. He needs nourishment."

Tsuzuki propped the wooden cane by the nightstand and shrugged out of his coat. "I know. That's why we're here." After tossing it on the floor, he unbuttoned the restrictive waistcoat.

The cat watched, tail lashing. "Will you awaken him?"

"When I'm ready." The waistcoat fell to the floor. Tsuzuki loosened the bow tie.

"He must be awake to receive nourishment."

"Naturally." Lips quirked in a rueful smile, Tsuzuki sat on the bed to remove Muraki's shoes and socks. "Tell me about your relationship with Muraki. Do you serve him out of obligation in return for food and shelter?"

The cat leapt on the nightstand. "I serve no one. I await the unveiling of the immeasurable Light, the purest light in which no eye can look."

"Immeasurable light..." The same words Saagatanus had spoken before his demise. Tsuzuki took off Muraki's glasses and peered through them. "Is Muraki this light you're talking about?"

"The one you call Muraki is the witness to the Light. He bears witness so others may come to know of its existence." The cat lay on its stomach, tail twitching. "For the Light is without name or limit. The Light is pure, incomprehensible and eternal. All things exists within the Light, and the Light exists in all things. The Light is the source of life-giving life." It began to sing, its thin voice rising and falling:

"Those who wait on the Light shall renew their strength;  
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,  
They shall run and not be weary,  
They shall walk and not faint.  
Glory be to the Light!"

When it was finished, it stared expectantly at Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end, and his shoulder blades tighten a little. "You...are you praying?"

The cat bowed its head.

The Light it described - omnipotent, existing beyond the realm of time and space, bestowing life and restoring power - this didn't sound like a demon. A major shikigami perhaps? The divine four under his command could release limitless energy, thus giving life...but they resided within the virtual world of Gensoukai. And why would they listen to a demon's prayer? They only answered to him...didn't they?

Tsuzuki folded Muraki's glasses and placed them on the nightstand. "I never knew a demon who believed in prayer."

"The one who bears witness to the Light taught me." The cat glanced forlornly down at Muraki. "Awaken him. He cannot bear witness with his eyes closed. He cannot give praise with his lips sealed."

Tsuzuki tugged his bowtie free and undid his collar button. The room felt warmer than before. "If he's only bearing witness to the Light, then what's the meaning of the light in his false eye?"

"The Light exists in all things. He removed his right eye so he may see the Light."

"You mean...you mean Muraki..." Revulsion gagged the words in his throat. "He...he did that to himself?"

"In his entire state, he was bereft of the Light. It was necessary for him to cast his eye away so he may see."

Tsuzuki brushed the silver hair from Muraki's forehead. The distorted eyelid drooped but failed to cover the eye beneath, leaving the pure white sclera visible without the coloured iris.

"Why?" He let the silken strands fall through his fingers. "Why deface yourself like this?!" He glared at the cat. "Why?!"

"Better that one of his organs perish than his entire body be cast into darkness, out of reach of the Light."

Did Muraki mutilate himself for the sake of his insane quest? The callous way he'd desecrated Saagatanus's corpse...a repeat of an act he'd already performed on himself. The thought made Tsuzuki ill.

He focused on removing Muraki's blood-splattered trenchcoat, then the jacket - rolling Muraki's body back and forth as he removed the sleeves from each arm. "Who told him to mutilate himself? Who gave such a terrible order?"

"He performed this deed so he may see--"

"Bullshit!! How's he meant to see when he's missing one eye?!"

The cat lowered its head. "He wants to be one with the Light."

"How dare anyone ask such a horrible thing of another person? And how dare _he_ do this to himself?!" He clutched the side of Muraki's sleeping face. "All life is precious! Yours is no exception! How could you maim yourself when you keep telling me how fragile the human body is? This is beyond madness, even for you."

"There is no reason to grieve." The cat's voice was a plaintive mewing. "The Light protects and nourishes him. The Light will not forsake--"

"Look at him!" Tsuzuki snapped. "See how pale he is! No healthy person should look like this!"

"The Light is the giver of life. What the Light takes away it will return ten-fold." The poor feline did its best to flatten itself in a posture of abject submission. "Awaken him so he can give thanks and praise."

"He tells me nothing but cryptic riddles. He brushes aside my questions. And today he's shown that he won't listen to my commands." His gaze lingered over Muraki's features. He looked several years younger with his face in repose - more human and fallible. Without his condescending sneer and arrogantly arched brow, he didn't look like the Muraki he knew. "At least I've learned something from this." He pulled both coat and jacket free from Muraki's body, and flung them on the floor. "I've learned his true feelings for me."

The cat pricked its ears. "Have you?"

"Yeah." Tsuzuki stood up. His shoulders were aching. "I could use a drink."

The lights flashed on as he entered the spotless kitchen - a convenient luxury for the man who had everything. Yet Muraki lived the life of a recluse. No family. A few friends, and he couldn't even recollect their faces. Despite his apartment of minimalistic elegance, his prestigious sports car, his brilliant career - Muraki led a lonely existence.

All these trappings of wealth - a different kind of gilded prison to the one Tsuzuki knew in Meifu, but a prison all the same.

Tsuzuki found a bottle of red wine in one of the cupboards. Using the waiter's corkscrew from the cutlery drawer, he carefully opened it the way Muraki had demonstrated last night. Cut the foil with the knife. Twist the corkscrew coil in the cork. Gently lever it out. With a soft pop, the cork came out in one piece.

He let out a sigh of relief. Success.

With the bottle and a full glass, he ventured back to the bedroom. Slowly he took sips to savour the taste - rich and full-bodied as he remembered. He placed the bottle on the nightstand beside the cat, then stretched his legs out on the bed next to Muraki's sleeping form, the glass cradled in his hands. Muraki's head rested innocently against his hip as it followed the dip of the mattress.

"You told me the Light exists in all things." He took a thoughtful sip from the glass. "Does that apply to the Darkness as well?"

The cat gazed at him, unblinking. "The immeasurable Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will never put it out."

"Fine." Tsuzuki rubbed his forehead. Muraki had obviously given the cat lessons in riddle-speak. Carefully he tried to reason with it. "But where there is Light, there must be Darkness too, right? When Light falls on an object, a shadow naturally forms behind it--"

"Do not speak ill of the Light! The Light must be worshipped and glorified!" The cat lashed its tail, clearly impatient.

But Tsuzuki's mind had seized on an idea. Shadows. Darkness. The thickening fog obscuring Muraki's memories, dulling the pain of the friends he'd lost...

Tsuzuki turned pale, and his fingers tightened over the wineglass.

"Awaken him!" the cat yowled. "Awaken him so he can give praise to the Light!"

"Quiet. Praise feeds ego, not power. If this Light is as great as you claim, why doesn't it awaken him now?" He leaned over Muraki and caressed the silver hair. "Right now, Muraki has nothing to be thankful for." His fingers drifted across the angular jaw and thin lips, along the prominence of the pointed chin down to the knot of his tie. "Tonight I will put this Light of yours to the test."

Muraki didn't move. He allowed his tie to be removed, and his collar and the first few buttons of his shirt to be undone.

Tsuzuki paused for a moment to admire the flesh laid bare. At this angle, he was viewing Muraki's face upside down. He drank in the sight of the slightly parted lips, the underside of his lifted jaw, the slight flicker of the pulse at the base of his neck...

This unguarded vulnerability in sleep - a side of Muraki he would never see while awake.

"You once told me you collected dolls, but I bet none of them ever looked as handsome as you. I wish..." Tsuzuki's wistful tenderness gave way to a bleak sadness. "I wish a doll was enough to satisfy me."

He dispersed the knockout spell with a hand over Muraki's eyes. Muraki didn't stir.

"One with the ineffable name, forgive him his sins and bring him to your everlasting Light," the cat sang. "Lead him not into temptation, but deliver him from evil."

"Your light has its work cut out for it there," Tsuzuki muttered.

"He thirsts!" the cat cried. "What do you expect of one who has waited for so long?? Why do you cast him out when he cries out for the enduring food and drink only you can provide? Does his belief count for nothing?"

"What does he believe in ?" Tsuzuki shot back. "Am I anything more to him than a food source and a good lay? Does he respect me? Does he trust me? Does...does he even like me?"

The cat bowed its head.

"You understand my scepticism, don't you?"

"You must ask him these questions," the cat said. "Nourish him so he may speak for himself."

But how to nourish a man too exhausted to feed? A couple of suitably lewd methods occurred to him, but he suppressed those thoughts. He refused to take advantage of Muraki in his weakened state - that would be sinking to Muraki's level. If he was to ever succeed in mastering Muraki, he needed to master his own base instincts.

He tapped his finger against the bowl of the wineglass, thinking.

_...a covenant is much, much more. It is a binding alliance ratified by blood..._

_Food is not what I require for sustenance. A familiar must feed from its master to survive. So must I feed from you._

_This day I cleanse you with water, but there is one who will come after me, one whose name I am not worthy to utter; he will replenish you anew with all five of the elements..._

_Three...the number for abundance and generosity and food._

_The Light is the source of life-giving life._

Preposterous. Outlandish. But if Muraki and his cat genuinely believed it to be true...

Tsuzuki took one more sip, then propped himself alongside Muraki. He pulled down Muraki's jaw to open his mouth a little.

"Take this, and drink. This...this is my blood."

He tilted his head, and pressed his wine-wet lips against Muraki's unresisting mouth.

Muraki's eyelids flickered against the side of Tsuzuki's face - a delicate sensation like the fluttering of a butterfly wing. His lips parted a little, seeking more of the heady flavour.

Tsuzuki was charmed. Muraki kissed like a young boy, innocent and receptive and pliant. His eyes remained half-closed in that state between dreams and consciousness. Tsuzuki flattened one palm over Muraki's chest. "Let this be a new start...between us."

He slid his tongue within, flicking and teasing. His lips clung against Muraki's, persuading them to come to life. Of their own volition, his fingers began to caress the lean ribcage and clench the material of his shirt.

How could Muraki remain asleep? Surely he was pretending, wasn't he? The urge to be more aggressive was proving difficult to resist. Tsuzuki felt his shoulders ache, and it wasn't solely due to the strain of supporting his body weight with one elbow. With his teeth, he playfully nipped at Muraki's lax mouth.

"Awaken now. Let us make...a new covenant."

A low rumble vibrated against Tsuzuki's stroking fingertips. The sound reached his ears - a deep growl of a lion waking from slumber.

Muraki opened heavy-lidded eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. You challenged my authority, and you were thwarted by my hand. As the victor, it's time for me to claim my prize." He leaned over to pick up the wooden cane by the bed, and used the handle to stroke Muraki's cheek. "You."

Muraki's grey eyes glittered. "A triumph achieved by sleight of hand is no triumph at all." But he turned his head towards the cane, daring Tsuzuki to continue. "You seem as well as always, I see..."

"Were you hoping I'd die?"

"Not at all, Tsuzuki-san..." He tried to shake his head, and grimaced. "But I do believe I had the right...to let off a little steam. All my careful preparations...ruined by your games."

"Didn't I already tell you?" Tsuzuki leaned closer. "You are not to kill again. If you are to have any hope of being by my side, you must renounce your murderous ways for good."

"I was about to present my finest offering...a bouquet of bloodied corpses to bring glory to your name..."

The cat sat up, tail twitching, and began to sing: "Through him, with him, in him, in unity with the Light, all glory and honour will be ours, for ever and ever."

Muraki closed his eyes. "As it is spoken, may it come to pass."

"Enough with the prayer meeting, you two! If your cat wants to do more singing, it can visit a karaoke bar--"

"It is right to give thanks and praise!" the cat hissed.

"The right thing for you to do is shut up. As for you..." Tsuzuki shook Muraki's shoulders to make him open his eyes. "Your 'offering' was an excuse to indulge your own bloodlust. You are never to do that again!"

"_My_ bloodlust? I don't do this for myself alone." His good eye gleamed with mischief. "What about _your_ bloodlust, hmm?"

Tsuzuki wasn't going to be sidetracked by taunts. "Tell me how long you've been bound by kagetsu magic."

Muraki's face turned to stone.

"The dark shadows obscuring your memories must have been created by a powerful kagetsu spell. My fuda wasn't strong enough to break it. Is this the same magic that shields you from shikigami attack--"

"Heresy!" the cat yowled. "You dare insult the one who bears witness to the Light!"

"I'm after the truth! I want to know who did this! The impenetrable power that can withstand a shikigami's energy, the power that consumes all others within itself..." He turned to Muraki, his gaze intense. "No kagetsu power I've seen is capable of this."

"Your secretary is little more than a babe," Muraki mocked. "He will never unleash the full scope of his power because he recognises the paucity of his skill. But the fault is not entirely his. The one who taught him has been niggardly in his training."

Tsuzuki sat up on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. Trickling heat sizzled down his spine, and the air seemed thicker around them. He picked up the cane and held it between his bent knees to hide the tremor of his hands. "You call him weak, but he was strong enough to send you running before."

"What chance does a fallible mortal stand against an angry God of Death? His volatile display of aggression revealed the limited mastery of his powers." Muraki absently scratched at the drops of blood staining the cuffs of his crumpled shirt. "I assessed the situation, and decided on a strategic retreat before he lost complete control of himself."

"That would never happen! As a kagetsu master, Tatsumi would never unleash the full force of his powers on a whim! He's more rational and disciplined than I could ever hope to be--"

"He's weak and fragile, a coward beneath his bravado. Why else was his tenure as an active shinigami so short? He left you to reap the lost souls on you own using your shikigami, ne? He never used his kagetsu powers during an investigation because he knew he wouldn't be able to--"

"That's not true! He...he knew my shikigami couldn't work in the presence of kagetsu magic! He was doing it for me - that's why he held back." Yet his defence sounded hollow. Somewhere within Muraki's insinuations was a bitter kernel of truth. "Tatsumi did his utmost, which is all I could ever ask for. He always gave me support when I was feeling low. Using his powers, he tried to ease my pain and lift my mood when I was down. He...Tatsumi is a good person. I know he is." Tsuzuki gripped the handle of the cane. "I won't listen to you while you insult him. We may not be working partners, but he is still a close friend!"

Muraki's lower lip curled. "Such touching loyalty." He turned away and sat up, legs hanging over the side of the bed. "Very well. Let us see if he will show you the same loyalty when the full moon rises in three nights' time."

Only three nights. Tsuzuki's chest tightened. Once he would have interrogated Muraki in a vain attempt to extract more information, but he knew better now. He thought back to his dream on a bed strewn with rose petals, his body marked by red lines, seduced by Muraki's expertise. Only five nights ago, but it felt like a lifetime.

In his dream, he had to be chained to the bed to endure Muraki's caresses. Now he lounged on Muraki's bed of his own free will, no longer his prey - but not an equal either. Yet.

Tsuzuki reached out to touch one of Muraki's hunched shoulders. Even with his back towards him, Muraki exerted an irresistible magnetic appeal over him. The living flesh was warm through his shirt, the muscles twitching at his touch.

"Don't be jealous of him. I'm here, aren't I?"

"So you are." Muraki eyed the clothing strewn on the bedroom floor. "Along with the chaos you leave in your wake."

Tsuzuki splayed his fingers across the expanse of one shoulder. With his thumb, he dared to massage the taut muscles at the nape of Muraki's neck, soothing away the tension. Feathery tendrils of silver hair tickled the back of his hand. So soft and delicate...so unlike the man himself. Tsuzuki had the inexplicable urge to curl his nails into the solid flesh until he drew blood.

"I meant what I said earlier about a new covenant between us. If you agree to my terms, I will guarantee you the nourishment you need."

"So you claim." Muraki glanced dismissively over his shoulder. "But I only tasted wine on your lips, not blood. Your words are meaningless as long as you remain locked in ignorance." He lowered his head in his hands, distancing himself from Tsuzuki's touch. "And you've given me a terrible headache with your knockout spell - another sign of your sadistic cruelty towards me."

"Sadistic cruelty? You dare...accuse me...?" Tsuzuki was spluttering at the injustice. "That's nothing compared to your enforced amnesia of your friends, and the madness that drove you to remove your eye! You want to know what sadistic cruelty is? Go look at yourself in the mirror--"

"Heretic! Infidel!" the cat shrieked. It leapt into Tsuzuki's lap and clawed wildly at his shirt.

"Stop it!!" Tsuzuki tried to pick up the squirming mass of fur and claws. "Muraki, tell it to get off me!"

Muraki ignored him. He stepped over the discarded clothes and opened the curtains by the window.

"Do not speak ill of the one who bears witness to the Light!" the cat yowled.

Tsuzuki gripped the furious cat by the body. "Listen to me! Where is this wondrous Light you speak of? Why hasn't it answered any of your prayers? Muraki gave up an eye for it, and what has he got to show for his sacrifice?"

"Do not take the name of the Light in vain!" The cat wriggled and twisted and scratched Tsuzuki's hands to no avail. "The ways of the Light are not ours to comprehend! Only a disbeliever would put the Light to the test!"

"Then call me a disbeliever, because I don't believe. And unless he begins to give me an explanation instead of spouting lies, I have no reason to believe or trust a word he says. You hear that, Muraki?"

Muraki gazed out the window, head lifted up, transfixed by the moon high above the horizon. His palms were flattened against the glass, his entire body motionless. The silvery moonlight cast an ethereal white light over his features. He shut his eyes, basking in its glow. A serene smile curved his lips.

It disturbed Tsuzuki. He was assailed by a creepy sense of deja vu.

Squirming free of his hands, the cat jumped off the bed and scrambled to the security of Muraki's legs.

Muraki let out a deep satisfied sigh. His shoulders fell, and the tension seemed to ease within him.

"What are you doing?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Nothing a disbeliever like you would appreciate."

The words were a red rag to a bull. Tsuzuki slid his feet to the floor and strolled to the window. The moon peeked out between woolly tufts of clouds, its white light streaking them grey and white.

"Then explain it to me." He chose to lean against the full-length glass, facing Muraki instead. The unbuttoned part of his shirt gaped open when he folded his arms - a detail not missed by Muraki's roving eye.

"No other celestial body symbolises the passage of time more vividly than the moon. It is a heavenly reminder of the curse of mortality. From a crescent-shaped sliver it emerges from the dark to form a golden disc of perfection, only to be overwhelmed once more by the devouring darkness."

"Only until the next lunar month, when it begins the cycle all over again." Tsuzuki's voice was dry. "The darkness doesn't overwhelm it for all time."

"Really? Why, Tsuzuki-san...so it is." Muraki's tone was one of feigned amazement, yet his sidelong look gleamed with calculating intent. "You're still able to acknowledge truth when the mood takes you, ne?"

Tsuzuki lifted his chin. "I'm just stating an obvious fact."

Muraki smiled. "Ahh, but it took thousands of years for humanity to grasp the mechanical principles behind the moon's mysterious phases. Your 'obvious fact' owes much to the knowledge accumulated since the dawn of mankind. Long before the advent of rational science, humans accepted the moon as the marker of the seasons and tides. It told them when to set sail and cast their nets for fish, the best time to sow seeds and harvest crops. It was a powerful entity telling them how to live their lives. Is it any wonder ancient cultures deified the moon as a symbol of fertility and plentitude?"

"No wonder at all." Tsuzuki had not forgotten the nightmarish dream of his mother gazing at the moon with him and his sister. The memory and Muraki's jarring words gave him no reassurance - only an ominous foreboding.

"But most importantly of all, the mutable moon taught humanity a valuable lesson about life and death." Muraki returned his gaze to his distant subject. "The moon's mutable appearance, unlike the constant sun, was symbolic of the passage of life: birth, maturation, decay and death. The full moon never remained full for more than a day - the shadows were all too eager to claim it again. But the darkness could never vanquish the moon for long. Within a few days, a new moon would emerge, unbowed and unbroken - a miraculous resurrection from the dead, no less." His intent gaze swung to Tsuzuki. "In the sacred moon, humanity discovered its most ancient symbol of eternal life."

Tsuzuki couldn't move. He felt strangely dizzy, as if the ground was shifting beneath him.

_I will give you a name! You will be Gyokuto-sama!_

"When we first met you were a tightly-furled bud: fearful, fragile, your talent trapped within you." Muraki lowered his head close, his voice a husky croon. "Tonight you stand before me with your lovely petals unfurled."

The florid flattery wrenched Tsuzuki back to the present. He turned his head away, just in time to avoid the impending kiss.

Muraki's lips grazed a flushed cheekbone. "Each night you come to me, the moon swells a little more. As it waxes into perfect fullness, so my dreams approach fruition..." His warm breath tickled Tsuzuki's ear. "And so will you."

Tsuzuki pushed him back. "Gazing at the moonlight too much has fried your brain. Your actions tonight prove how much you must hate me."

Muraki had the grace to look surprised. "'Hate' is a rather strong word, Tsuzuki-san--"

"Hate is the exact word! You're driven by hate. It's the only emotion you know, aside from lust. A heart filled with hate must feed on itself to survive - it can't admit love of any kind. Is that why you allowed those shadows to mask your memories?" The realisation sent a chill down Tsuzuki's spine. "This kagetsu spell that binds you...helped you become what you are now..."

"I was reborn by steel," Muraki countered coolly, "wielded by your own hand, remember?" He turned away from Tsuzuki, his gaze shuttered. "This is a tedious discussion. Yet again you continue to deny your own culpability in my fate."

Tsuzuki seized Muraki's arm from behind. "You chose it! You entered into a covenant and shed your eye! And for what? To find this imaginary Light? To experience the perpetual boredom of eternal life? You're the fool, Muraki! Tell me how the Light has rewarded you? It doesn't strengthen you! It doesn't answer your prayers! You've been forced to humble yourself before me - a person you openly loathe. It couldn't even alert you to my fuda illusion spells! You fell for them all hook, line and sinker! This Light of yours is useless!"

"You are a cheat! I will never acknowledge a victory achieved using subterfuge and deception!"

"And you're a sore loser. You were the one who claimed you were mine, ne?" Tsuzuki stroked along a taut bicep to grip one solid shoulder, then pulled Muraki close from behind. The scent of Muraki's aftershave teased his nostrils. Tsuzuki couldn't resist nuzzling his nose against the muscular throat. "You've taunted me with those words over and over - tonight it's time to show me the proof."

"You want me to submit to a fool like you?" Muraki's sardonic drawl, low and deep, seemed to resonate into Tsuzuki's very being.

"Call me what you like. I don't care what you think." Tsuzuki's voice was soft, conspiratorial. "I'm nothing more than a dog to you anyway." He pressed his lips against the bare skin, his tongue tracing slick whorls over the flesh. "So I may as well act the part. I have nothing to lose." He slid his hands up along Muraki's torso.

Muraki shivered. "No." He clasped Tsuzuki's hands, but made no move to remove them.

"You've already used up your Metal energy in that fight. You're tired and weak now. You need to feed again, ne? Come to bed...and I promise you a banquet later." Tsuzuki slid his teeth playfully along Muraki's shoulder, through the shirt. Muraki's hatred wasn't strong enough to overcome his lust. As long as Muraki remained a sexual hedonist, Tsuzuki knew he held a carrot that might lure him into submission. "A private, intimate feast for two..." His palms stroked Muraki's chest.

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"Fine." Tsuzuki grasped the fabric and pulled hard. The shirt buttons popped free, one by one. "Allow me to convince you."

Muraki bowed his head without protest. Unseen to Tsuzuki, his false eye began to glow.

* * *

Watari read over the latest printout. A big grin lit his face. "It works! It works!" He held the papers up so 003, perched on his head, could read it too. "See those bars? Those are the mineral readings from your feather sample! I can't say for sure if your essential mineral levels are normal, but at least I can conclude you've got no evidence of heavy metal poisoning." 

003 peered down then hooted loudly in triumph.

"Well, I know you wouldn't eat such things anyway, but it never hurts to make sure." Watari threw the papers to one side, and picked up another printout. "The readings from mine are here. See? All the essential minerals are present - no toxic metals in my system either." He threw it on the pile with the other papers. "So why can't I get a single reading from _his _sample?? I've already made a second batch for analysis, and still nothing registers!"

003 roosted herself on Watari's shoulder and hooted again.

"Mmm. A good point. Hair treatments could affect the results. That's one of the reasons why hair analysis is not widely used for assessing nutritional status and mineral deficiency." Watari sighed, and held up the clear plastic bag containing the rest of Muraki's hair sample. "I suppose I could run an analysis on the older sample...but on its own, I can't make a comparison."

Watari frowned to himself. Failure of any kind irked him immensely. Ever since childhood, he had been lauded by his teachers as a prodigy. He had become accustomed to getting results, finding answers, solving problems. All mysteries, however big or small, eventually revealed themselves under the spotlight of his incisive mind.

Only once in his life had he drunk the bitter dregs of failure. To a man who prided himself on the strength of his intellect, the taste had proved fatal.

Watari squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to remember. It was all in the past - the past he never discussed with anyone. The past he'd vowed to forget.

He would never know failure again. Thanks to Enma's generosity, he would always have the funds to purchase any piece of equipment he desired to satisfy his curiosity. If he ever had a question to ask, he was free to consult the extensive database of human knowledge contained within the memory banks of the JuOhCho supercomputer. And if he wanted to give form to a passing whim, a few quick strokes of a pencil on paper was enough to bring it to life.

He dropped the hair sample to the lab bench, and clutched his temples against the impending headache.

_A feeble, error-prone human brain was a small price to pay in return, wasn't it?_

003 peered at his face in worry. She nibbled his ear to rouse his attention.

Watari grimaced. "Sorry, 003. Too many late nights, I guess. I'll get an aspirin, okay?"

He was almost at the doorway when he saw it - a shadow retreating away from him.

003 saw it too. Her talons tightened on Watari's shoulder for a moment, and then she bounced up and down, hooting in greeting.

Watari sagged with relief. "Is that you, Bon?" he called out. "If you wanted to come in, you just had to knock."

Hisoka shuffled through the doorway, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "How did you know it was me?"

"I didn't, but 003 doesn't miss a thing." Watari smiled brightly. "So tell me, what are you doing here at this late hour?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." Hisoka's green gaze was accusatory.

"Well, I was just satisfying my scientific curiosity on a small problem when I got caught up in a most annoying technical glitch--"

"You're helping Tsuzuki with a secret case, aren't you?"

"Well, with the way it's going at the moment it's not much use to anyone." Watari eyed Hisoka's thick chestnut brown hair. "But you know, you might be able to help me with it."

Hisoka blinked, taken aback by Watari's easy manner...and his rather cryptic reply. But surely Watari had to know what was going on. Tsuzuki wasn't making regular lab visits to take part in silly sex-change experiments anymore. Hisoka knew something big was happening - and he was determined to find the truth.

"All right. What do you want me to do?"

* * *

In the semi-darkened room, Muraki reclined against the pillows on his double bed. His shirt was ripped to the waist, his trousers unzipped at the crotch. His pale muscular torso, previously marked by Tsuzuki's violence, now bore the saliva-slick kisses of his passion. His heavy-lidded eyes were slitted in pleasure, his lips curved in a satisfied smile. He combed back his silver hair with a careless hand. 

He looked every inch a man abandoning himself to sensual pleasure. In another time and place, he could have passed for an emperor enjoying the attentions of his favourite concubine.

"I imagine there is...little nourishment to be found, ne?"

Lying between his thighs, still dressed, Tsuzuki swallowed down as much of Muraki's erection as he could handle. When his throat protested at the bulk, he eased back to concentrate on the sensitive crown. His tongue swirled over the slit, greedily tasting the salty-bitter precome, while he milked the straining shaft with a firm, steady grip.

Lying on the nightstand, head resting between outstretched paws, the cat saw everything.

Muraki exhaled, his nostrils flaring. He reached across for the wineglass on the nightstand and took a slow sip. "Your efforts, though admirable...are futile. I seriously doubt...I can compare..." His fingers tightened around the stem of the glass. "...to this excellent vintage..."

Tsuzuki lifted his head free. "You should have a taste...before you make such judgements."

"How do you propose I do that?" Muraki lifted a brow. "Do you want me to engage in the act of auto-fellatio?"

It took Tsuzuki a few seconds to realise exactly what Muraki meant. "That's...that's not humanly possible!"

"It's not impossible," Muraki corrected, all seriousness, "but the degree of spinal subluxation required to maintain such a posture would make a regular practitioner prone to spondylolisthesis, a potentially serious spinal disorder." At Tsuzuki's wide-eyed expression, he changed the topic. "In any case, I would never allow myself to be caught in such a compromising position."

"You've tried it!" Tsuzuki sat up on his knees, laughing like a boy. "Come on! Prove it to me!" He grabbed a bemused Muraki by the shoulder. "I want to see!"

"There's an easier way." Muraki sat up and took hold of Tsuzuki's jaw with his free hand. He leaned close, his head tilted to one side, his gaze lingering on Tsuzuki's grinning mouth. With the tip of his tongue, he traced the outline of Tsuzuki's mouth, delicately lapping at the residue with the fastidious attention of a cat.

This gentle caress held Tsuzuki spellbound. It felt so affectionate...so tender...

"Mmm." Muraki released his jaw, then swirled the wineglass and took a sip for comparison. "An interesting combination of flavours...but I declare this wine the winner."

Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki's hand and drained the glass himself, then kissed Muraki hard. He didn't want Muraki's tenderness. His tongue lashed Muraki's own, urging him to taste even more of himself. Kneeling forward, he forced Muraki back against the pillows and lay on top.

Muraki growled. He removed Tsuzuki's trouser braces, and yanked the shirt off his shoulders. "You grow so bold. How you kept your true nature bottled up for so long...I will never know." He slid his hands over Tsuzuki's back. "The skin here burns like fire."

Tsuzuki removed his own shirt, then yanked off Muraki's trousers. "You're going to come for me. I'm going to claim every inch of you." He squeezed the proud erection for emphasis.

"Ahh...I've given up so much of my essence...and all you do is demand even more."

"You only have yourself to blame. You're the one who made me addicted to this - to you." Tsuzuki's hand began to massage the shaft faster, relishing the way it throbbed and twitched within his grasp. "Tonight I'll feed from you...enter deep inside you." He pressed his lips along the growling throat. "This will be my reward...for bringing you to heel."

"I only withheld my power by choice so you would have a fighting chance. If I were at full strength, you would never have thwarted me."

"Poor Muraki." Tsuzuki bit one of his nipples. "Losing to me must be a terrible blow to your pride, but I'll do my best to ease your pain." He slid down until his mouth was poised over Muraki's groin, then slowly lowered his mouth. The thickness slid against his tongue, past his lips, twitching as it nudged his inner cheek.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. He allowed it deeper until it nudged the back of his tongue. Twisting his head, he began to stroke the shaft and crown using his tongue. He used one hand to caress the vulnerable testicles beneath, gently massaging them between his fingers.

Above him, Muraki trembled. He lifted his knees a little and guided more of his cock deeper into Tsuzuki's mouth.

Tsuzuki withdrew, chuckling. "You love this, ne?" He kissed Muraki again, encouraging him to taste himself. "I know I do." He took the wineglass from the nightstand and upended it over Muraki's groin.

The remaining wine trickled over the straining erection, making Muraki flinch. "Such a waste..."

"Added flavour," Tsuzuki retorted. He lowered his head and took the cock in his mouth. Wine and precome - the taste made him delirious. He swallowed the cock deeper, drawing in his cheeks to create the same kind of suction Muraki once used on him. When Muraki began to thrust his pelvis forward, Tsuzuki held him down by one hip and slid precome-slick fingers behind the testicles to stroke the smooth perineal flesh.

"No." Muraki's voice was slurred with lust. "Must feed." His hips jerked in time with Tsuzuki's greedy mouth. He grasped Tsuzuki's hair. "Feed me."

Tsuzuki slid his fingers to the opening of Muraki's body. He circled the orifice, making it twitch. His mouth worked furiously, suckling Muraki's cock as if it held the sweetest nectar.

Muraki tried to sit up. "Stop!"

Tsuzuki no longer cared. He headbutted Muraki down, then thrust two fingers deep inside his ass, searching.

Muraki hissed. He twisted against the sheets, a hooked fish fighting for freedom. He pulled at Tsuzuki by the roots of his hair.

From the safety of the nightstand, the cat huddled in a ball and shut its eyes.

The pain made his eyes water, but Tsuzuki wasn't about to give up. He suckled like a starving beast yet stroked from within with a firm gentle touch. The solid buttocks twitched against his hand - he stroked them as best he could, soothing their anxiety. What he lacked in experience he made up with an intimate thoroughness that galvanised Muraki into squirming resistance.

Muraki gasped, his chest rising and falling with his erratic breaths. One of his heels pressed against Tsuzuki's hip in protest only to tremble and slide away. His tugging fingers in Tsuzuki's hair slowed, their rhythm unconsciously matching the thrust of the fingers deep inside him. Tsuzuki's suction over his groin remained a rich source of delight, a more than enjoyable diversion. The tension in his muscles eased a fraction.

"Relax," Tsuzuki whispered. He nibbled the crown with his lips. "Listen to me for once. Listen to your body."

Muraki lifted up one knee for leverage, hips rocking forward. His cock nudged Tsuzuki's lips for entry.

Tsuzuki parted his lips and welcomed him in again. The thrusting of his fingers became deeper, more daring. He slid past the clenching muscle ring, his fingertips exploring this most secret of places. Muraki rarely vocalised his enjoyment, but he gave much away with the restless way he quivered and twitched against the sheets.

Tsuzuki refused to relent. He stroked the length of his fingers in and out, twisting his fingerpads around - searching for the place that gave his prize the most pleasure.

Without warning, Muraki's cock stiffened to maximum fullness.

"You--" Muraki tensed. A low, helpless moan came from his throat. He gripped Tsuzuki's shoulders, his nails scoring Tsuzuki's upper back over and over with bloody lacerations.

Warm fluid filled Tsuzuki's mouth. Gulping as fast as he could manage, he swallowed as much as possible. Salty-bitter...yet a very sweet triumph. He kept his fingers inside, stroking over and over. His neglected cock pressed tightly against his trousers. The burgeoning ache of arousal was no match for Muraki's petty scratches.

Defeated in the battlefield, now subdued in the bedroom. Muraki was his for the taking.

Tsuzuki lifted himself up, panting for breath.

Muraki's gaze was dreamy. His silver hair lay in disordered array against the pillows. His hands were flung over his head in tightly balled fists.

For a man who had put up a fight, Muraki looked incredibly pleased with his defeat.

Tsuzuki could feel his cock swelling at the sight. "Spread your legs for me."

Muraki uncurled both fists. Each palm was covered in downy feathers of the purest black.

"What...what the hell is that?"

"Don't you know?" Muraki propped himself up on one elbow. "They come from you."

Tsuzuki reached behind his shoulder, and came away with soft tufts of bloody feathers. "Shit." From his shoulder blades to the midline of his upper spine, downy feathers replaced skin. "How did this...No! This is a trick - an illusion! They're not real!"

"They are yours, and they are beautiful." Muraki brushed a handful against Tsuzuki's horrified face. "Even as your mind resists, your body knows the truth. Why else did you come to me and feed so avidly? Your body knew this was the fuel you needed for the sprouting--"

"I don't want them! Get them off me!" Tsuzuki clawed at his own back and shoulders, tearing off handful after handful of feathers. The prickling pain only became worse - new feathers grew out of his skin to replace them. "Do something! Use your nails! Scratch them off!"

"Hush." Muraki embraced him. His hands stroked Tsuzuki's back, ruffling the patches of feathers and prickling skin. "I bet these wings will look beautiful on you."

Tsuzuki clutched him in desperation. "Please! You don't want to awaken this monster!! Drain my energy before it's too late!!"

Muraki kissed his forehead, soothing him as he would a child. "Soon the day will come when you will take flight. But since the moon is not yet full, I will let you sleep a few days more. Swear to me that you will partake of my body and blood in return."

Tsuzuki nodded wildly. "Yes, yes! I swear it! Just stop it growing!"

"You need only say the word..." Muraki tore his nails down Tsuzuki's back until he gasped. "And your will is done."

He pushed Tsuzuki on the bed so he laid face-up. He then straddled over Tsuzuki on all fours, his face directly over Tsuzuki's clothed crotch while simultaneously giving Tsuzuki a full view of his own reawakening erection. He tore at the fly to free Tsuzuki's cock, then swallowed him in one fluid gulp.

Tsuzuki exploded. His hips bucked into Muraki's ravenous mouth. Aftershocks of delight shook his entire body. The pain in his back was banished by the intense orgasm that seized him. He reached out blindly, and found himself milking the shaft of Muraki's thickening cock all over again.

The trigger and the cure for his every sexual need. The bane of his existence.

Tsuzuki watched it grow in his hands, alive and eager. It tilted down, the crown pointing towards him in silent demand.

This was responsible for the sprouting feathers, he told himself. Drinking the source of Muraki's rich, heady essence was the cause of all his ills. From now on, he'd just let Muraki suck him off. That was the safest option...and no less enjoyable.

Trembling, he lifted his head to watch Muraki moving his head up and down, lips gliding along the length of his cock. Velvet warmth squeezing him, caressing him, welcoming him...sucking him dry.

The exquisite pleasure shredded rational thought. This glorius suction was making him rise up a second time, more than ready to let fly once more.

Tsuzuki fell back on the bed. This felt too wonderful to keep to himself. He had to reciprocate this ecstasy or go stark raving mad.

Tsuzuki grasped Muraki's ass, urging him down. He opened his mouth wide and welcomed Muraki in his mouth.

Muraki made a deep purring sound. He doubled his efforts suckling Tsuzuki in return.

Pleasure multiplying pleasure - there was no other way to describe the joy of sucking and being sucked in turn. Tsuzuki became dizzy with it. Trapped beneath Muraki, joined at mouth and cock, he felt his own body quiver under the onslaught of sensations too exquisite to bear, but unable to break the circuit of mind-blowing pleasure flowing between them. To his bemused mind, it felt like he drank from his own cock, so perfectly was he attuned to the man poised above him returning the favour.

The barriers between them crumbled to dust. The titles of human and shinigami became meaningless. Their rivalry was void, their conflict irrelevant. They were more than equal - now they were indivisible.

United into one being. Melded in body and mind. Striving as one towards a common goal...

It was a nightmare come true.

Tsuzuki wrenched his mouth free and shoved at Muraki's hips, urging him off. When Muraki refused to stop feeding, Tsuzuki shoved his knee into Muraki's jaw, sending him tumbling across the mattress.

"What...Tsuzuki..." Muraki's voice was husky, indistinct. His false eye shone with a brilliant white light.

Tsuzuki tried to do up the fly of his trousers - no easy task when his cock insisted on standing at attention. What was he thinking? This was the man who hated him. This was the man who had tried to kill him several times.

Why on earth would Muraki help him eradicate the feathers? Muraki was the cause of it! His assistance would certainly carry a terrible price, for he never did anything unless it furthered his own schemes. He had to be mad to trust Muraki again, let alone seek to be Muraki's equal.

The light in the false eye dimmed. Muraki's glassy stare hardened into chilling ice. "You tease. You think you can string me along at your whim without paying the price?"

"I've paid plenty." Tsuzuki stumbled to his feet and almost fell over the pile of clothes on the floor. Desperately he tried to gather his wits about him. "You fed from me. You've exposed my shameful secret." He picked up a stray shirt and put it on. "What more do you want?"

A musical chime interrupted them. The cat sat up, ears pricked.

"You expecting another victim?"

"Ignore it," Muraki bit out. "It's of no consequence."

"How do you know if you don't answer it?"

"A caller impolite enough to visit at this hour doesn't deserve a reception. If it's important enough, they can reach me by phone."

But Muraki didn't have a phone - neither a cellphone or a fixed line in this apartment. Tsuzuki had searched high and low the other day.

A man without a phone was a man who didn't want to be found. A man with a secret. A weakness.

Tsuzuki picked up the cane and sauntered out of the bedroom. The cat jumped down to follow him.

"Your back is still moulting," Muraki jibed. "I haven't finished administering my remedy yet."

The chime came from an intercom speaker panel situated by the lift doors. There were several small buttons above it. Tsuzuki squinted at the writing.

"Return to him," the cat mewed. It scrabbled at his ankle. "He needs to feed so he can bear witness."

From the bedroom doorway, Muraki shrugged into a yukata. He froze when he saw what Tsuzuki was up to. "Don't touch it!"

Tsuzuki jabbed one button with the handle of the cane. A small screen lit up to reveal a man with long dark hair and an angular face. He stared down the camera along the length of his aquiline nose. "Muraki? Muraki! I know you're hiding in there! Let me in!"

This face - he'd seen it before during the Kyoto investigation. His voice was identical to the one he'd heard in Muraki's shadowy memories. "Hey, isn't he a friend of yours--"

Muraki grabbed his shoulder and flung him to the floor. "I told you not to touch it!"

The cat dashed under a nearby chair for protection.

"Whatever you say." Tsuzuki focused his magical power instead. The intercom unlock button clicked to release the front door.

Muraki ripped off the entire panel using his bare hands.

"Too late." Tsuzuki rolled to avoid the flying circuitry. It missed his head by a few inches. "He's in the building."

Muraki hauled him up by the collar. "You dare defy me after all I've done for you?" Murderous fury distorted his face, from the feral intensity in his good eye to the beginning of the snarl curling his lower lip.

Tsuzuki felt only relief. Homicidal rage was the one emotion from Muraki he knew he could handle. "Someone has to shatter that conceited mask of yours. Acting the manipulative bastard only gets you so far. In the end, you're no more exempt from pain and suffering than anyone else in this miserable universe."

Muraki's grip loosened on his shirt. His burning stare cooled into brooding contemplation.

"You do things for me only because it suits your purpose. It all comes down to you in the end." Tsuzuki pulled free and turned away. "It must infuriate you to see your carefully-laid plans disrupted, ne? Especially when it's done by a despicable fool who's no better than a dog."

"Are you doing this to teach me a lesson?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." Tsuzuki picked up his cane and twirled it around his wrist. "But I believe your friend has the key to succeed where I've failed."

"Succeed?" Muraki's tone was menacing. "At what?"

"This is your chance for freedom." Tsuzuki flashed his brightest smile - the surest way he knew to barricade his heart. "Don't waste it." He began to disappear.

"Tsuzuki-san!" Muraki found himself clutching thin air. "Tsuzuki-san!" He whirled around in a fury of motion, mentally scanning for Tsuzuki's vibrant presence - the spiritual equivalent of his animated personality.

Nothing. He couldn't sense his presence anywhere in the room. His hands clenched into helpless fists.

The cat peered out from under the chair. "He has the power to mask his emanations. He may still be observing you."

"Most likely." Muraki observed the flashing lift indicator. "Voyeurism seems to be his favourite hobby, ne?"

He needed a cigarette to ease his temper. After retrieving his lighter and a pack from the bedroom, Muraki sat down on the sofa. He placed a cigarette in his mouth and flicked the lighter. It wouldn't work.

The cat jumped up beside him. "He gave you a working one blessed with Fire--"

"I remember." Precisely enunciated to terminate further talk.

He tied the sash of his yukata to conceal his modesty, and crossed one knee over the other. It was rare for him to have another hard-on so soon after climax, but not at all unwelcome. This was a sign of the pure energy that now flowed within him, giving him renewed strength.

Only Tsuzuki's divine essence could achieve such a miracle. Now he had feasted on it, no substitute would ever do.

The lift door slid open. A tall man swept into the room, his straight dark hair fanning out behind him, his kimono robes swirling about in a dazzling blur of violet and crimson and gold. "Muraki!"

The cat stared, impressed at the dramatic entrance. Even Muraki managed to lift an eyebrow.

The visitor came to a stop before the sofa, several feet from Muraki. His narrowed eyes searched Muraki's face, as if he wanted to make sure he was not mistaken.

"Why, Oriya. What an unexpected sur--"

"I came to settle a grudge!" In a single motion, Oriya unsheathed his katana. He held the tip of the blade inches from Muraki's throat. "A grudge over how you disappeared for months without telling any of us where the hell you were. Do you know how worried we've all been? Ukyou-chan spent weeks in Kyoto searching the streets for you! Your manservant Sakaki-san takes immaculate care of your residence while he awaits any sign of your return!"

Muraki eyed the steel for a long thoughtful moment. "Should I take this as a sign you're pleased to see me?"

"Pleased?" Oriya spat out. "Why would _I_ be pleased to see a guy like you again? It would be kinder to show them your rotting corpse than explain your callous disregard for their feelings!"

Muraki snorted. "Your antiquated sense of honour will prove to be your undoing one of these days. You should have lied to them and saved yourself the journey. But now that you're here, you may as well make yourself useful." He held up the unlit cigarette between his fingers. "Would you happen to have a light?"

Oriya clenched his jaw, battling the urge to strike. The tip of the katana edged closer to the underside of Muraki's jaw.

The cat arched its back. Muraki rested a firm hand over it. His calm, steadfast gaze did not waver from Oriya's face.

Seconds passed. Neither man moved a muscle. Their eyes were locked in a silent battle of wills.

"You overestimate the depth of our friendship," Oriya muttered. "Not to mention my patience with your games."

"Not really." Muraki's lips curved in the faintest of smiles. "In the event that your temper overcomes your honour, I'm counting on my guardian angel of death to come to my aid."

Oriya's jaw dropped slightly. He stepped back and sheathed his weapon. "I see. You should've told me you had another visitor."

Muraki shrugged. "He took flight at your less-than-civilised arrival."

"Well, well...so you're still playing with fire." Oriya walked over to the window, hands on his hips. "You stubborn ass. You haven't learned a single lesson from the Shion University disaster."

"There's one important difference this time," Muraki told him, chuckling. "This time the fire is more than ready to play with _me_."

* * *

**Notes:**  
- Sorry _yet again_ for the delay in updating.  
- The cat's sung prayer borrows heavily from Isaiah 40:31 (New King James Bible version). The 'eye' reference is also Biblical (Mark 9:47). Several of the cat's responses are taken from the Roman Catholic mass and the Lord's Prayer.  
- Thanks to Gengkotsuya for her help! And thanks too to the readers who've written such encouraging feedback!  
- Karadin has done a lovely pencil sketch of Muraki and Tsuzuki admiring a snowflake - please check my website for the link! There's also a link to a sexy Mu/Tsu art by Annachuu! 


	23. Truth or dare

_Thanks to Gengkotsuya for her help!_

_Miss Kittin has done a sexy pencil sketch of Muraki ruffling Tsuzuki's head and having a cigarette. It's a beautiful work that embodies the main theme of this story: Tsuzuki's dormant powers and Muraki's determination to awaken them. Check my website for the link. That aphorism about a picture being worth a thousand words has never been more true._

* * *

_Monster! You're a monster!_

The childhood taunts still stung decades later - for he knew their insults were true.

Clusters of needle-like pinpricks pierced his shoulder blades. He could feel the growing quills cutting through his skin, through his shirt, extending out into the cold night air, wet and sticky with blood.

Agony. Sheer agony.

Tsuzuki fell to his knees. He doubled over, clutching his shoulders. Tumbling on his side, he let his cheek rest against something damp and cool. An odd mixture of smells invaded his nostrils - a mixture of acrid pungency and heady perfume...

Fertiliser and flowers. Was he dreaming?

He opened bloodshot eyes. In the distance, he could see trees backlit by a streetlight. A public park? Wasn't he back in his Meifu apartment? Was he still in the land of the living? Focusing his mind, he tried to summon the energy to make himself vanish. It was impossible to concentrate for long. The parasite within him was clawing along his back, revealing itself to the world once more.

No, he couldn't go back to Meifu like this. He needed to destroy it once and for all.

Bowing his head, he clenched his hands together in prayer.

"Enduring gatekeeper...of all wisdom..." Pain dulled his memory of the prayer. "I call on you...help me end this torment!"

The ground heaved and shook beneath him. Tsuzuki tumbled on his back, and swore with the pain. Quickly he rolled on his stomach, face down.

In a puff of black smoke, Genbu loomed over him, long thin neck curved in a regal cobra-like arch. Sulfurous gas wafted from his crocodilian jaws. "As you have summoned me, so I am here."

"Where are we?" A stupid question, but Tsuzuki needed to know.

"This is the garden you summoned me to bless the writing implement. The shrubs and grass have again been clipped in my absence. Foolish humans." He shook his head in disgust. "What has become of your chimera?"

"I can't control him, Genbu. I tried...and I failed..." Tsuzuki gritted his teeth against a spasm of pain. "He pretended to surrender...when all along..."

The back of Tsuzuki's shirt ripped apart. A thick wedge of sharp black quills tore through the cloth, the tallest a metre high. Fine hairs sprouted perpendicular to these spines, growing in all directions to form a grotesque imitation of a bird's feather.

Genbu peered down, gold eyes wide. "Excess energy. You cannot sustain such power in your current form."

"I won't let it out again! I won't let it take over my mind!" Tsuzuki's hands clenched in the soil. "I can't hold it back any longer...this shameful mark..."

"When one elemental energy is in excess, it over-nourishes the others. This sets up a vicious circle." Genbu lashed his tail. "The generation cycle becomes active - a spiral of ever-increasing power."

"That's...what he's been after all along. Both him and his cat..." Tsuzuki hissed and rested his forehead against one hand. "I knew it and yet I still came to him. I knew, dammit! I knew!! And now--"

Genbu stomped the ground with one foot. "Focus," he rasped. "Only by focusing your mind will you subdue your surplus power."

"You think I haven't already tried that?" A new cluster of quills pierced through the shirt, their points glistening with blood. "It's too late! You must destroy me...before I kill more people. Before I destroy everything again--"

"What will that achieve?" A derisive snort from Genbu's nostrils sent black ash fluttering over Tsuzuki. "You summoned me to end your suffering, not eradicate your existence."

"If you can't put a stop to this, then destroying me is the only solution!" Tsuzuki strained to lift himself up on his hands and knees. A line of quills projected stiffly from his back. This was not a pair of graceful wings with joints and muscle - only a single monstrous fin-like appendage looming above him from behind. "I should've summoned Touda instead! Touda obeys my orders!"

Genbu swayed his head from side to side, a denial and a warning. "Touda transforms everything he touches into smoke and ash!" he hissed. "Summon the Fire Snake and you bring upon the earth the very chaos you dread!"

"Dammit." Genbu wasn't called the Guardian of Wisdom without reason. "Then what do I do? How do I control it?"

"Matter is energy stored, energy is matter released. Your physique is undergoing drastic change as it attempts to assimilate the excess energy within you. But your current form has a limited capacity for transformation--"

"I won't change! I don't want to change! Anything but that!" Tsuzuki reached for the wooden cane, its polished shaft gleaming in the dim light. He pressed it in the ground, and lurched to his feet. "There's got to be another way."

The cane shivered in his hands, and began growing in diameter and height. Ridges and furrows appeared in the grain of the wood. A green shoot sprouted halfway along the shaft and sprouted a single small leaf.

Tsuzuki threw the cane to the ground. "What's going on? All I did was touch it!"

The cane continued to grow. Thickened bark replaced polished wood. It writhed and twisted in slow motion until it was transformed into a gnarled branch.

"Wood energy producing new life - the fruit of the generation cycle." Genbu poked out a forked tongue to lick one tip of the cane. "It smoulders." His eyes lit up. "Herein lies your cure. Bless the barren Earth with your energy. Let the Earth be transformed into a profusion of new growth."

"I won't accelerate the chaos in the world! Generating new energy is taboo!"

"It will absorb your excess power to generate new matter and new life, not energy. It is not forbidden for living things to utilise the generation cycle of the elements. This is the prerogative of all things that reside in the material world, for they cannot flourish without it." Genbu nudged the cane-branch with his snout. "Take hold of your staff of Wood and press it into the ground. The tip will ignite when the Wood can absorb no more. The Fire will then return these valuable nutrients to their rightful place - replenishing the Earth."

Tsuzuki held back. Feeling the cane stretching and curling in his hands horrified him in a way no demon ever had.

The parasitic plants in his nightmares - was it a premonition of this terrible moment?

"I...I can't! I can't do it!" He took a step away. The quills lengthened behind him, the tallest almost twice his height. Its hairs were wiry and fuzzy, more like fluffy tufts than the smooth shiny filaments of a wing feather. "This is just like my dream - plants growing all over me, choking me of life! It wants something from me - like everyone else!"

Genbu took one ponderous step forward. The ground trembled around him. "Plants have longer memories than they are given credit for - they retain information passed down through many generations within the very fibre of their being. This little one has not forgotten its foremost allegiance."

"Allegiance? What allegiance?"

From the cane, delicate green tendrils crept towards him. They extended over his shoe to encircle his ankle. More leaves sprouted, their glossy surface reflecting the moonlight.

"Stay away from me! I don't want anything to do with you!" Tsuzuki kicked it away.

"Such disrespect is unworthy of you, Tsuzuki."

"You know what I am! I'm a good-for-nothing Shinigami! I'm a God of Death!" He lifted his foot over the flourishing greenery, ready to trample it dead. "Killing is the one thing...the only thing I'm good at!"

"Is that so?" Genbu indicated the plant with a sweep of his serpentine neck. "Explain it to this one."

A green bud sprouted from the leading shoot, directly under the sole of Tsuzuki's shoe. It unfurled to reveal petals of the purest white - a white that radiated its own light in the darkness.

Astonished, Tsuzuki moved his foot away and knelt down for a closer look. It was a tiny star-shaped blossom the size of his thumbnail. When he touched it, the flower opened up a fraction more. Its fragrance was an arresting olfactory jolt to the senses - a hint of vibrant jasmine, the old world refinement of tuberose and gardenia, the delicate sweetness of the evening angel trumpet, the rich exotic aroma of ylang-ylang.

The scent awakened a flood of nostalgic memories. He could see the many flowers in his mind, sharp and clear and drenched in the glorious sunlight of childhood memory. Rows of flowering shrubs grew in his mother's garden, heavy blossoms nodding in the breeze. Bees and butterflies darted from one flower to the next, imbibing the plentiful nectar. Tree branches hung down, heavy with fruit and alive with chittering birds.

So much activity. So much life.

Alongside his mother and sister, he tilled the soil by hand, sowed the seeds, tended the shoots...and they had rewarded him with their finest bounty. The most beautiful flowers, the finest seasonal fruits and vegetables - despite the prejudice against his family, many came to purchase the excellent produce from their garden.

Their garden had been their lifeblood. In spite of drought and blizzard and flood, there had always been some plant thriving to provide them with food. This was one of the many reasons his family attracted much envy and suspicion within their village.

"In Meifu, all I ever see are sakura blossoms dying. Their dead petals fluttering down around me - a beautiful blizzard of death." His vision blurred with tears. "I can't remember the last time I saw a flower bloom. It makes no sense. I used to love flowers so much. Why I can't remember...?"

The tendrils entwined around his fingers, a reassuring squeeze. The lone flower grew higher, closely inspecting his distraught features.

"When I was a child, I loved helping out in the garden. The happiest moments of my life were spent there with my mother and sister. We grew so many things - it would've made you proud, Genbu." He pressed his hands against the damp earth. Loose dirt trickled between his fingers.

_Barren soil becomes fertile when he places his hands in the earth. Dying plants are revived when he touches them._

"Plants are capable of much generosity. They reward those who take the time to tend them," Genbu said.

"I had an affinity for gardening when I was alive. I loved watching them sprout and grow and blossom and bear fruit. My mother used to say the plants liked me best, but I never took her seriously. Plants are just plants, right?" A leaf shivered when one of his tears fell on it. "Why would they grow for me more than anyone else? I never understood. There's nothing special about me--"

Genbu nudged Tsuzuki's head. "Have you forgotten you are master of twelve divine commanders?"

"I know, but that was an honour each of you bestowed on me. Serving me was the lesser of two evils, huh?" Tsuzuki looked up at him, his smile sad.

"You are but young," Genbu said, without censure. "Do not presume to comprehend the workings of a Divine Commander."

Tsuzuki let the plant go. It slithered free from him so he could rise to his feet. "I won't allow myself to be transformed into some kind of monster." He rubbed his eyes using the back of one hand. "Having these strange eyes is bad enough - I refuse to become even more of a freak."

"Take the Wood. It will be the lightning rod for your excess energy: from Wood to Fire to the starving Earth. Let the regeneration cycle inherent in all living matter take care of the rest. Earth has an infinite capacity for transformation. It will absorb this surplus energy in your place."

Tsuzuki dared to pick it up. It writhed and twisted in his grip, invigorated by his touch.

"Hold it firm. Observe the tip."

Multiple shoots sprouted along its entire length. They wound themselves around the cane to form an overgrowth of green vegetation. Some entwined themselves around Tsuzuki's hand. Tsuzuki was unnerved at the sight, but he didn't let go.

The tip of the branch-cane glowed red. It crackled then burst into a single red-gold flame. Tsuzuki held it up with both hands, eyes wide. The shoots became flaccid, their energy consumed by the kindling fire. The cane was now a torch.

Fire from Wood - the regeneration cycle in action.

Genbu stepped back, making the ground shake. He lashed his tail from side to side in excitement, and his eyes shone red from the reflected flames. "Now let this sacred Fire revitalise the barren Earth!"

Tsuzuki turned the torch down and thrust it into the soil. The open flame was instantly snuffed out, leaving acrid smoke.

His body was changing back. The cluster of quills on his back shrivelled up. The mass of hairs fell to the ground. The ache over his shoulder blades was easing. Only moulting plumes remained stuck to his ripped shirt - the skin beneath was unmarked and clean.

"Yes!" Tsuzuki whispered. "It's working!"

A thin green carpet sprouted at his feet. Gradually it spread around him, extending under Genbu's heavy-set legs to surround them both.

Genbu rubbed his lower jaw against the budding shoots of grass, his teeth bared in a grin. "The cradle of life is fertile once more. You have passed your energy to these seedlings that need it the most." He bowed his head low before Tsuzuki. "On their behalf, I thank you for reviving them." He stamped his foot. "Arise! Arise!"

The ground shook violently. Blades of grass grew high.

"Enough, Genbu!!"

"It is my duty to nourish and revive them. I will continue your work--"

"It's all right. Let them grow without further interference. They must learn to endure on their own sooner or later." Tsuzuki removed his ripped shirt and reached behind his back. All gone. He flexed his shoulders, relieved to be himself again.

"Very well." Genbu heaved a sigh and lowered his foot.

Tsuzuki lifted the cane. It was smooth and straight, a lifeless piece of wood once more.

Wood. Was this the occult element Muraki was talking about? Was that the reason why Muraki had given it to him? But how was its power a threat to shikigami? How was it the key to eternal life?

"So this is the fifth element. I never thought about Wood as a type of elemental energy. I always took it for granted."

"You are not alone. Humans have forgotten its importance, too." Genbu shook his head, a sign of displeasure. "Their callous vandalism of forests threatens the existence of all life on earth, including their own."

"It's a shame there isn't a God of Wood, a living spirit that embodies its qualities of growth and renewal." Tsuzuki stamped the tip of the cane on the ground. "If there was such an entity around, people might give plant life the respect it deserves."

"Maybe." Genbu's brooding gaze lingered on his master for a long moment. "Then again, he too might be ignored and forgotten like the rest of us."

Tsuzuki chuckled ruefully. "Yeah, that's possible too."

Genbu lowered his head until he faced Tsuzuki at eye-level. "Have you forgotten your chimera? What will you do with him?"

"I'm letting him go. He despises me for what I am. There's no way he'll accept me as master." Tsuzuki closed his eyes and murmured the spell. In an instant he was dressed in his usual black trenchcoat, white shirt and loosened tie. "It's not the first time I've been turned down."

"So what will you do about his destructive nature? How will you stop him spilling more blood?"

"There's still a shred of humanity within him, Genbu. Right now his mind is bound by kagetsu magic that's not within my power to dispel. But he has a visitor with him now, a good friend." He waved the cane. "Come on. Let's see if this person can jog his memories and break the spell."

* * *

Oriya sat perched on the armchair, his back ramrod straight. He looked out of place in Muraki's minimalist apartment, his patterned silk kimono at odds with the neutral shades of the furnishings. 

On the facing sofa, Muraki lounged back in his white yukata. He stroked the grey cat resting in his lap.

Oriya's glare would have struck terror in the most inebriated of brothel clients. "It's common courtesy to offer a guest something to drink, Muraki."

"I don't recall sending you an invitation to barge into my apartment."

"You hid your tracks well. My father's underworld connections couldn't find a single trace of you. They monitored your assets, bank accounts, phone records...zilch." Oriya looked around the apartment. "They knew of this place, but according to your accountant you sold it years ago. Was that a sham?"

"I had second thoughts and bought it back shortly after. I even made a small profit from the transaction, and kept the funds in a safe place for a rainy day." Muraki smiled. "It was here in Nagasaki five years ago that I laid eyes on my beloved for the first time."

"Beloved!" Oriya spat out. "Enough of this! You don't know how to love anyone! You dare speak about your 'beloved' when you desert Ukyou-chan without saying a word!"

Muraki scratched the cat's jaw. "Your concern for her welfare does you credit. Entrusting her in your care was a wise decision on my behalf."

"What? Is that all you have to say? Don't you care at all about the pain you're putting her through?"

"Evidently not as much as you," Muraki murmured. "But this situation presents you with the perfect opportunity to give her the comfort she needs, ne?"

Oriya clenched his jaw. "My first and foremost obligation is the day-to-day operation of Kokakurou. My familial obligations prevent me from doing otherwise. All I can offer her is my hospitality. Each time she visits, I serve her the best food and finest sake, and attempt to lift her spirits--"

"Very good. Women appreciate such attention to details during a date."

"We're not dating!" In the folds of the silk kimono, Oriya's hands balled into fists for a moment. "I'm not the one she's waiting for. You should see the desperate hope in her eyes when she asks for any news of your whereabouts--"

"Did you tell her where I am?" Muraki's voice was curt.

Oriya paused. "No. I wasn't sure there would be anything left of you to find." At Muraki's raised brow, he explained: "I received a lead from one of my father's associates. With the country's largest human genetic laboratory in ruins and public support in a fully-fledged military force at an all-time high, the government's clandestine superhuman project is being shut down for good. The last thing the bureaucracy wants is news of this controversial research to become public knowledge. They are silencing everyone involved in order to preserve the unblemished reputation of our self-defence forces."

"Shut down?" Muraki was miffed. "As the recently-appointed Chief Investigator, I don't remember being consulted about its closure. I arranged the secondment to Shion University for the express purpose of taking over Professor Satomi's research. Decades of valuable work will be wasted if--"

Oriya snorted. "Fine, whatever. You can debate that with the special police when they come to arrest you. They're meant to be flying into Nagasaki any day now with orders to bring you back dead or alive. You must've been careless somewhere along the line, because they've managed to track you down."

"So that's how you found me." Muraki kept silent about the earlier rendezvous he'd already arranged with the police. The less Oriya knew about that debacle, the better. Truly this was turning into a night of botched plans. "What a pity. I never intended to entangle you in my affairs again."

"Never mind." With a silken rustle of his robes, Oriya stood up. "Be thankful they haven't found you yet."

"They won't be a problem, I assure you." Muraki frowned. Why didn't anyone trust him against a gang of thugs? Didn't his reputation as a serial killer count for anything? "I'm not going to allow such a minor annoyance to interrupt my sabbatical. In any case, there was no need for you to endanger yourself by coming here. It would be best if you left before they arrived, ne? Allow me to see out." He made no attempt to hide his impatience.

Oriya ignored it. "So do you have one of your flashy cars here? I can't imagine you without one of your many toys."

The casual tone raised Muraki's suspicions. "I'm not lending it out to you to drive."

"I'm not wearing the right footwear for driving anyway." Oriya lifted his robes to reveal wooden geta clogs. "If you're in such a rush to get rid of me, then the least you can do is give me a lift."

Muraki placed the cat on the floor. "Very well. I'm only doing this for old times' sake." He stood up. "Where am I supposed to drop you off?"

Oriya rested his hand on the handgrip of his katana. "The airport. I don't suppose I could persuade you to come along?"

"Abduction is unworthy of a man of honour, Oriya." Muraki indicated the door with an indolent wave of his hand. "I even remember you telling me once you'd never allow your precious blade to be defiled with my filthy blood. Don't tell me you've had a change of heart?"

Oriya chuckled. "You still remember that? Yes, it still holds true. That's why I also brought along this." He drew his hand into one voluminous sleeve and pointed a small pistol at Muraki's chest. "Whether you like it or not, you're coming with me."

Muraki's gaze widened. "Well, well...I never thought I'd see the day." He eyed the distance separating him and the gun. Safely overpowering an armed Oriya without the use of magic wouldn't be easy. "Yet you were always such a staunch supporter for the honourable warrior arts, Oriya."

"I may be a traditionalist, but I'm not a sentimental fool." The gun didn't waver. "I'm perfectly willing to incapacitate a leg or arm if that's what it takes to bring you back. I stood back and allowed you to do as you pleased once before. I'm not going to repeat the same mistake a second time." His mouth twisted in a glimmer of grim humour. "Please do as I say, Muraki. For old times' sake."

At Muraki's feet, the cat hissed and arched its back.

There was no point in using magic if Tsuzuki wasn't around to witness it. There was no sign of his vibrant humming energy in the air. This would not do at all. Muraki knew he had to find a way to provoke Tsuzuki into revealing himself...

...and Oriya, a mortal human, could hold the key.

"How could I refuse an old friend?" Muraki's suave voice was charm itself as he tightened the sash of his yukata. "Allow me to change into something more appropriate before we depart."

* * *

From the rooftop of Muraki's apartment, Tsuzuki watched the silver Ferrari roar out of the driveway and down the street. 

"It must have worked, Genbu. They're leaving together."

In his human form, Genbu scowled. "They are polluting the air. Foolish humans."

"Never mind that. Muraki must have regained his memories. I was counting on them returning to him when he saw his friend in person." He managed a wry smile. "Never underestimate the power of love, Genbu. His friends will look after him from now on. I'm sure he'll listen to their counsel more readily than mine."

"I see. So you are truly letting the chimera go?"

"Yeah." Tsuzuki wasn't quite able to hide the flatness in his voice.

"Hmm." Genbu seemed unconvinced. "I am aware that strong emotion can influence magic to some degree, but I fail to see how the presence of a mere mortal could break a shadow spell so easily. Are you sure that's what you encountered within his subconscious landscape?"

Tsuzuki sat down with his legs dangling over the barrier ledge, the cane across his lap. "I'm positive. My illusion fuda couldn't generate the forms of the people he loved. All I could hear were their voices calling out his name."

Genbu's shaggy brows knotted together. "Then this so-called memory block is nothing of the kind. His auditory memories remain intact."

"Well...it was a partial memory block. Maybe the spell was weak to begin with..." But that didn't make sense. If this was part of the same kagetsu magic that protected Muraki against Suzaku several years ago, it had to be a powerful spell. "Then what else could it be? He couldn't visualise the people who loved him. I had to talk to him to get any kind of reaction, and then he attacked me. But it wasn't really him at all." Tsuzuki touched his throat, reliving the memory. "He didn't speak. His eyes were glowing but blank. I thought it was the demon taking over his body..."

"A demon bound by a strong kagetsu spell is unlikely to be capable of physical possession. The shadow magic that blocks a shikigami's energy would drain a demon of its limited reserves."

"Then what attacked me? Could this also be a result of his kagetsu spell?" Tsuzuki knew shadow magic could form impenetrable barriers to physical energy and psychic shields to conceal emotional pain, but the power to control a person's actions? This was beyond his experience. No memory block could do this.

No memory block alone...

"You're right!" Tsuzuki scrambled to his feet, and grabbed the cane before it tumbled down. "He's been under this spell for years! It's not like he's completely forgotten the important people in his life! His kagetsu spell must have some other hidden purpose!"

"Of course I'm right," Genbu huffed. "Am I not the Guardian of Wisdom?" But he puffed his chest with pride anyway.

"This isn't amnesia at all. I didn't ask him to show me specific people in his life." Tsuzuki began pacing on the rooftop. "I created that fuda illusion to _remind_ him of the people he cared for, the ones he left behind in his past life. The fact that he couldn't visualise them or respond to their emotional pleas...it's a sign of...of..."

Tsuzuki stopped dead in his tracks. Blood drained from his face.

"His friend's in grave danger. We have to find them."

"Indeed." Genbu tapped his staff. "Let us be off."

* * *

Within the car, neither man said a word. The streetlights raced past in a dazzling neon blur. Apart from the odd taxi, the streets were free of traffic. The growl of the Ferrari's engine filled the silence. 

The cat lay in Oriya's lap. Oriya stroked the back of its neck. "I didn't know you had an interest in animals. Where did you find this creature?"

Muraki's eyes remained on the road. "I didn't find it. It found me."

"Hmm." Oriya lifted the cat's jaw. "I pity you," he said to the animal. "Your taste in owners is terrible."

The cat mewed plaintively.

"A few days after your disappearance, a white cat began lurking around Kokakurou looking for food. Some of the servants believed it housed your restless spirit. The entire household was in a turmoil over what to do with it. Many of the younger female staff wanted to take it in. Some of the men suggested cutting off its tail so it couldn't become a neko-mata, manipulator of corpses. Tami-san recommended killing it in case it was a disguised kasha demon after human bodies - plus its presence was becoming bad for business."

"So what action did you take?"

"It never darkened our doorstep again. Maybe it overheard Tami-san's words and beat a hasty retreat." He held up the cat. "I wonder which method would work best with this one."

The cat wriggled and yowled until Oriya lowered it down.

"Test its patience too far," Muraki said lightly, "and I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

"When have you taken responsibility for anything?" Oriya's tone was acid. "That's precisely why I'm taking you back! I'm sick and tired of covering up for your reckless actions."

"You never made your distaste a secret. That's why I vowed I wouldn't trouble you again - a promise I was upholding quite well until now." The shifting play of lights obscured Muraki's expression. "Why waste your time in coming here? As you admit yourself, you had nothing to gain--"

"I gave Ukyou-chan my word I would search for you. She was inconsolable when I called her with the news of your disappearance. In her eyes, you're still a saint. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to shatter her illusions."

The tyres screeched as the car rounded a corner.

"Really?" Muraki drawled. "How unfortunate. It would've been kinder to tell her the truth."

"And further compound her misery?" Oriya snapped. "I'd always suspected you had a sadistic streak, but this is too much! Do you have no idea of the pain you've put her through? And for what? So you could spend time toying with your newest puppet!" He shook his head, disgusted. "Has your heart become so cold that you feel no shame in hurting the woman who's supposed to mean so much to you?"

The cat looked up at him, eyes wide, ears pricked.

"Woman," Muraki murmured to himself. He suddenly chuckled. "Did you just call her a woman?"

"What's so funny?"

"Well, well." Muraki shifted up a gear and accelerated hard. "I suppose it's true what they say about love being blind, ne?"

Oriya's gaze flashed daggers. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Haven't you noticed anything unusual about her, Oriya?" Muraki mocked. "Unusually short stature; the absence of breast development; the narrow hips and thighs? As young master of Kokakurou, would you bid for her if she was up for auction? Is the androgynous type popular among your clients?"

"Muraki! Watch your tongue, you animal!"

The terrified cat dived from his lap. It landed behind the parking brake and scrambled into the narrow compartment behind the driver's seat.

"Do you know her body is free of pubic or axillary hair? Her ovaries remain dormant, and her uterus has never known menses. She is unable to comprehend, let alone experience, sexual desire - hence her crippling anxiety at the most trivial physical contact with an adult man." Muraki's clinical voice sounded all the more cruel for its lack of emotion. "Perhaps this phobia also serves as a defence mechanism, sparing her the pain of being rejected for her asexual looks."

"How...how _dare_ you insult her like this? Have you no shame?"

"It's merely the truth. Sakuraiji Ukyou-chan is a thirty-four year-old female with the physical maturity of a twelve-year-old girl. She is a rare female case of Kallmann's syndrome - an autosomal-recessive trait characterised by failure of the brain's hypothalamic-pituitary axis." Muraki's sidelong glance was withering. "You've had the chance to see her recently, ne? Can you honestly say she's leading the life of a normal adult woman?"

Oriya turned away, his long hair falling over his shoulders. His fingers trembled, the only hint of his emotional state.

"It isn't my idea of one," Muraki murmured, "and it's certainly not hers. Her terrified rejection of men is a manifestation of the ambivalence she feels about her own body, forever arrested in childhood."

"Will this affect her life expectancy?" Oriya's voice was gruff.

"Probably not. She should undergo hormone therapy to reduce her predisposition to osteoporosis, but she was resisting such medication the last time I spoke to her because of the potential long-term side-effects." His lips twisted. "Ironic, ne? A pharmacologist with an aversion to tablets."

"No more ironic than a doctor who commits murder in order to fulfil his ambition to prolong human life."

Muraki inclined his head. "Or the brothel owner, surrounded by a surfeit of voluptuous femininity, yet secretly longing for a woman who remains trapped in the body of a child." He chuckled to himself. "Poor Oriya. Starving in the midst of plenty must surely be the ultimate misfortune--"

"Be quiet! I told you already I'm not after her!"

"Why ever not? How will she know your feelings if you don't make a move?" He shook his head and chuckled again. "You know, I noticed the way you watched us in high school. But you went to such pains to keep your interest hidden that I was never quite sure if you were secretly longing for her or me."

"Filthy blood or not, if you weren't driving this car, my blade would surely be up your--"

"And I never imagined you held a flame for her all these years! Ahh, how very romantic! You have my blessing to declare your honourable intentions after a suitable period of mourning for my disappearance followed by a discreet courtship."

"There's nothing to declare!" Oriya was almost shouting the words. "Not when she's only ever had eyes for you!"

"Do you know what she saw when she looked at me?" Sardonic amusement laced Muraki's quiet voice. "A white knight dedicated solely to the preservation of human life, an individual so noble in character he only touched her to wipe away her tears. I was her saviour tirelessly working to find a cure...and I could never bring myself to tear down the pedestal she built for me. Of all the people in this world, I wanted to protect her most of all from my blood-soaked hands. I didn't want her innocence to be tainted by being closely involved with me." His voice cracked a little, and he hastily cleared his throat. "Hero worship is not romantic love, ne? After all, how is it possible to love a person one doesn't even know?"

The cat meowed loudly and scrabbled the back of the driver's seat. Muraki froze for a moment, distracted.

Oriya's anger vanished as quickly as it had been roused. "Hmmph. You're capable of feeling for others after all. I thought such sensitivity was all but dead in you." He was silent for a long moment. "So is this love?"

For the first time during their journey, Muraki turned to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you think you're in love with him - this ghost from the afterlife?"

The traffic light leading to the main highway flashed amber then red. The Ferrari screeched to a halt, the only car on the deserted road.

"Tch!" Oriya gripped the door for support. "Watch it, will you?"

"Then be silent." Muraki put the car into neutral, jarred by the lapse of judgement. "This entire conversation is an annoying distraction."

The cat began yowling a long series of caterwauling wails.

Oriya grimaced a little. "Your pet is either going into heat or agreeing with me. You better neuter it to be on the safe side."

"Leave it be. It's praying."

Oriya stared at Muraki as if he were mad. "I see. Of course, what else can it do with you as driver?" He folded his arms and remained silent until the car was cruising along the uniformly straight highway overpass. "It's funny how you go around lecturing everyone else about their feelings, but you're so tight-lipped when it comes to your own."

Muraki's long fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "With all due respect, my personal affairs are none of your business."

"Fine." Oriya shrugged. But his sharp eyes had caught the betraying movement. "So you don't want to admit what he means to you." Ignoring Muraki's glare, he continued: "So what about his feelings? Has he fallen for your charms yet?"

The cat's thin voice faded off, caught in mid-note. Peering from between the two passenger seats, it darted fearful glances at both men.

Muraki's features were set in a stone-like mask. "I'm not in a position to answer on his behalf. Why don't you ask Tsuzuki-san yourself?"

"He's here?" Oriya looked around. "I can't sense anyone else. Normally I can detect such things."

"His power has improved greatly since you last saw him. His cloaking ability is now far greater than the average shinigami."

In the oncoming lane, a truck approached, headlights blazing.

"I'll bring him out of hiding so we can both hear his answer, ne?"

"Muraki--"

Muraki yanked the steering wheel around. The Ferrari swerved to meet the truck head-on.

Dazzling white light filled the windscreen. The truck horn blared.

Oriya lunged blindly for the steering wheel. "Stop!"

An invisible hand grasped Oriya's wrist and pushed him away. The car shuddered and swerved clear, throwing him back in his seat.

"Enough." Tsuzuki materialised in the confines of the vehicle, clad in his black coat, a hand gripping one side of the steering wheel. Because of the limited room within the Ferrari, his torso was sprawled over the gearstick and parking brake, while his hips were wedged in the narrow space between the passenger seats. His violet gaze, glittering with controlled anger, was mere inches from Muraki's face. "This time you've gone too far."

"See, Oriya?" Muraki burst into gales of blood-curdling laughter. "What did I tell you?"

Wedged in the narrow rear compartment next to Tsuzuki's contorted legs, the cat began a full-throated yowling hymn loud enough to rouse the dead.

"Stop the car." Clearly enunciated against Muraki's ear, Tsuzuki's _sotto voce_ command held an implacable resolve.

"Certainly." Muraki tilted his head close until Tsuzuki found his nose sandwiched against a pale angular cheek. "As soon as you give an honest answer to Oriya's question."

"Muraki!" Oriya roared. "I couldn't give a damn about the answer--"

Muraki jerked the steering wheel around and pushed down on the accelerator.

* * *

Genbu stood on the firm ground below, his long sinuous neck angled so that he could view the overpass at eye level. Under cover of midnight, he blended in well with the darkness, apart from the thin rays of moonlight that reflected from his armour-plated carapace and spiked head. 

"Dried riverbeds of tar built for the movement of their metallic tools of vandalism," he rumbled to himself. "Do they believe elevating this monstrosity in the air will compensate for this crime against the Earth?"

The silver Ferrari careened past him. Zigzagging across three empty lanes, it lurched back and forth like a punch-drunk fighter, tyres screeching on the bitumen.

"Foolish humans." Genbu exhaled a puff of vapor. Further evidence of humanity's self-destructive streak - not that he needed more proof. "Foolish, foolish humans." Slowly he shifted his huge body around and lumbered after the vehicle.

* * *

_**Notes  
1.** The Five Element Theory (Wuxing) mentioned in this story is loosely based on traditional Chinese philosophy. Check Wikipedia or do a Google search for useful diagrams that explain the way these elements co-exist through generation and control cycles. **Yinyanghouse dot com **has a great set of diagrams depicting these relationships.  
**2.** Cat mythology from **obakemono dot com**  
**3.** Details of Ukyou's appearance derived from YnM sidestories published in 2005/2006 Hanayume magazine. See my website for banner link to **Oriya/Ukyou Scanlations** to DL them.  
_


	24. The tin man versus the tortoise

Thanks to the readers who've left both constructive and encouraging feedback. I really appreciate it very much, and I'll do my best to improve things.

Karadin has done a beautiful pencil sketch of Muraki and Tsuzuki from a scene in Chapter 22 - Muraki appears to be on the bottom, but he's still very much on top. Be sure to view it at my website.

Thanks to Gengkotsuya yet again for her help.

* * *

It was chaos inside the car.

"Tsuzuki-san, please remove your hand from the steering wheel. A Ferrari requires delicate handling, not a ham-fisted grip-"

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki was furious. "Stop the car, dammit!"

"Muraki!" Oriya wasn't happy either. "Are you trying to kill us all?"

"I'm just trying to extract an answer to your excellent question. For the past four nights, I've run myself ragged trying to keep Tsuzuki-san amused and entertained, yet received little in the way of appreciation-"

The car veered towards the outer guard rail, then swerved back to the centre barrier. The engine roared in protest.

Tsuzuki collided with Muraki's shoulder, hit his head on the dashboard, and tumbled against a furious Oriya.

"Of all the places to materialise," Muraki chided. "This vehicle is designed for one driver and one passenger with room for a set of golf clubs in the rear compartment. Oriya, would you mind giving up your seat-"

Tsuzuki rubbed his aching forehead. "Stop the car!"

"Move it, Shinigami! You're on top of the handbrake! If I can yank it up, we can end this farce!"

"No, wait." Tsuzuki clutched the rollbar behind Muraki's seat and pulled himself up. The black lever between the two seats crackled with Metal energy. "There's a barrier around it."

Oriya reached for it and recoiled, stung. "What the...it gave me an electric shock!"

"He placed it there," Tsuzuki's gaze went to Muraki's smirking profile, "so no one would spoil his fun."

"Gentlemen, please. All I'm after is an honest answer to a simple question. A little feedback, nothing more."

"I already told you I wanted you! I've come to you every night! What more do you want?"

"But am I merely a treat you eat to satisfy a craving? A drug you take when you need a fix?" Muraki jerked the wheel to one side.

The tyres screeched. With its engine let loose, the Ferrari roared towards the barrier rail again.

Tsuzuki grabbed the wheel to straighten the car. Thankfully the Ferrari was the only vehicle on the road. "What do you want from me? A marriage proposal?"

"Don't taunt me with false promises." Muraki jerked the steering wheel in Tsuzuki's direction. The car skidded sideways for several deafening seconds, tyres squealing.

"Dammit, Muraki! You can't be serious-"

"Shinigami, forget about reasoning with this stubborn ass! Nothing you can say will dissuade him from this madness! Give him an answer and be done with it!"

"If I do, I'll be playing into his hands. I won't give in to his manipulative tactics anymore!" Tsuzuki turned on Muraki. "You're not the only one who can play this game." From memory, he jabbed at a button on the center stack console. The car's soft-top roof folded down to expose them all to a cold, unforgiving wind.

"What a lovely idea! Driving in the moonlight - what could be more romantic?" Muraki raised his voice so Oriya could hear. "If displays of affection between two adult males offend anyone present, he is more than welcome to leave the vehicle."

Oriya glared at him over Tsuzuki's shoulder. "I was protecting the reputation of my establishment! Imagine the scandal if word got out about your antics: 'Guest overlooks Kokakurou women in favour of male companion.' I'd be the laughing stock of Gion! No matter what you think, my home is not a tawdry love hotel!"

"Yes, yes," Muraki sighed, already bored with the topic. "A brief moment of horseplay became a terrible blemish on your fine upstanding brothel." From the corner of his eye, he saw Tsuzuki bowing his head, eyes shut, hands pressed together on the dashboard. "Humbling yourself before me is unnecessary. All I require is an answer to the question."

"I beseech you to answer my plea." Tsuzuki's voice was low, intent. "Stop this car."

"Tch! This is our fifth night together, and you still think you can command me like some pet dog?"

Tsuzuki didn't bother to open his eyes. "What makes you think I'm talking to you?"

The Ferrari shuddered for an instant, as if it had gone over a pothole. A few seconds later, it happened again. And again.

"What's that foul smell?" Oriya asked. "Muraki, you better slow down. Something's burning in here."

Wisps of smoke were surrounding the car, obscuring the moonlight.

"It's not the car," Muraki murmured.

"Look! It's coming from up ahead!"

The silhouette of a jagged mountain came into view. The expressway entered the steep cliff face via a single tunnel. Smoke billowed from the entrance.

"Rotten egg gas." It burned Oriya's throat, making him cough. "Sulphur dioxide? But why-"

"Of course. A naturally occurring compound in volcanic gas." Muraki pushed down on the accelerator. "How fascinating. Let's take a closer look."

"Muraki! Turn around, you idiot! If you don't care about us, then think of the car! Sulphur dioxide is a corrosive-"

The ground shuddered. The tunnel entrance shrank to a narrow crack, then widened sideways into a semblance of a macabre grin.

"Metallic toy of Man," it growled in a gravelly voice, "you have rebelled against the one that has nurtured you long enough. Repent and return to the Earth from whence you came."

Tsuzuki lifted his head from prayer, his gaze steadfast and serene. "Are you ready for a second round with the Black Warrior?"

Muraki's lips curved into a devilish grin. "Bring it on." He downshifted gears in rapid succession. "Oriya, have you ever encountered a major shikigami?"

Cracks appeared around the entrance. The entire mountain face was fragmenting like an eggshell. A subsonic rumbling grew in volume, making the car shudder and shift sideways.

"What have you got us into, Muraki?"

Muraki braked hard. The poor car shrieked to a halt. Oriya was slammed into his seat, his seatbelt squeezing the breath out of him. Tsuzuki found his face wedged up against the windscreen.

A single powerful snap rent the mountain peak in two. Genbu's enormous head erupted from the mountain in a billow of volcanic steam, the remnants of the tunnel entrance forming his lips and grisly teeth.

The car accelerated into reverse.

Genbu's long neck slithered onto the road. Captured in the Ferrari's headlights, his black scales shone an iridescent purple-green, and his slitted pupils became opaque.

"May I introduce you to Genbu, God of Earth." Impervious to the danger facing him, Muraki was looking in the rear-view mirror, one hand casually twitching the steering wheel back and forth. "One of your highest-ranked shikigami, correct?"

Tsuzuki cradled his aching jaw. This was one time he was grateful to be an immortal Shinigami. "Yeah."

"You're really out to kill us, aren't you?" Oriya's fury was verging on the apoplectic. "How fast do you think you can go in reverse gear? Turn the car around!"

"Oriya, insult me as much you wish, but please do not impugn the reputation of this vehicle."

Genbu lunged towards them, acid saliva dripping from his jaws. The Ferrari swerved away in the nick of time. Undeterred, Genbu swung his head from side to side, scales rattling against the bitumen. His unblinking gaze remained focused on his prey. Again he surged forward. Once more the Ferrari swerved away in the opposite direction.

Oriya glared at Muraki again. "You're slowing down on purpose."

"Because it wants to play." Muraki accelerated and turned the wheel, just as Genbu came forward once more. "If it really wanted to capture us, it could have done so in an instant."

Leaning with his forearms against the dashboard, Tsuzuki was entranced by the parry-and-retreat dance between machine and shikigami. It could have been choreographed in advance, so well-timed were their movements. "Look at him," he said to Oriya. "If you want him back, you must help me rid him of his power. How long has he been like this?"

Oriya turned away. "I don't need your 'help,' Shinigami."

"But don't you want to help him? You must have noticed his crimes, his dabblings in the occult! Those were the warning signs. Why didn't you try to stop him then?"

"He's always had an insatiable desire for knowledge. When science failed to give him the answers he sought, he investigated the supernatural for himself." Oriya's voice was heavy with resignation. "This is the path he's chosen for himself."

"So you knew, yet you did nothing? Didn't you wonder about his glowing false eye? Surely you must have noticed something was wrong-"

"Enough!" Muraki swerved the car hard with one hand, and yanked Tsuzuki against him with the other. "Your meddlesome questions pale in significance to the one you've failed to answer."

Tsuzuki squirmed against him. "You said you had no use for friendship! You treat the people who care about you like dirt! Give me one reason why I should love you!"

Still in reverse, the Ferrari accelerated hard along a straight stretch of expressway.

"A reason?" Muraki let Tsuzuki go. "Very well."

He slammed the brakes and turned the wheel hard. Tsuzuki clutched Muraki's seat. The Ferrari screeched, slid sideways, then spun around on its rear wheels. When it had turned 180 degrees in the opposite direction, Muraki quickly shifted gears. The car roared off in triumph, facing forwards at last. "How's that?"

"Showoff," Oriya muttered. His face was covered in flyaway black hair.

"Is...is that it?" Tsuzuki spluttered. "Is that what you expect? You drive like a maniac - I fall at your feet?"

"Tell me who else can thrill and exhilarate you the way I can. You have powerful shikigami who obey and protect you, friends who comfort and support you...but you return to me time and time again. Because there's something missing in your perfect world, ne? A certain excitement, a promise of danger...and voluptuous pleasure." Muraki swerved the car again. "I know how to fulfil the forbidden, untamed urges that lie within your heart. Why else are we so physically compatible? Open yourself up to me, and surrender to your true nature!"

Up close, his glowing false eye revealed the four characters Tsuzuki knew all too well - a mark of Muraki's fall from humanity, in return for embracing the demonic. No longer was he one of the weak humans he professed to despise. It was time to stop treating him like one.

"Surrender requires trust. Trust must be earned," Tsuzuki replied. "How can you expect me to reveal myself when you keep your own nature concealed?" He leaned closer to murmur in Muraki's ear. "Playing the weak, defenceless human is a poor disguise for one who has mastered Metal and Wind."

"I see." Muraki's hands turned the wheel as nimbly as ever, but his attention was elsewhere. He lifted his head closer to Tsuzuki's warm lips, his eyes slitted in momentary bliss. "Then tell me what guise would please you more."

"I want to see the real you. I've seen you stand up to a demon, but can you do the same before the God of Earth?" Tsuzuki summoned a conspiratorial smile as he moved back. Muraki could never resist a challenge to his ego. "Impress me, Muraki. Show me what you can really do against one of my shikigami. Prove yourself worthy of my devotion - and only then will you be deserving of my love."

"Don't listen to him!" Oriya barked. "What game are you playing, Shinigami?" He yanked Tsuzuki back.

"Watch! See his power for yourself!"

Genbu hissed and charged forward, mouth wide. The car roared to life and swerved again. Tsuzuki swore as he tumbled against Oriya. But Genbu wasn't finished yet - this time he kept advancing forward, his neck slithering quickly on the road.

"This is crazy! You're just encouraging him!" Oriya looked over Tsuzuki's shoulder to see Muraki calmly unbuckling his seatbelt. The steering wheel moved of its own accord, controlled by invisible hands. "Muraki! You idiot! Hold the wheel!"

"Calm yourself, Oriya. The car is still under my command." Muraki darted a hostile glance Oriya's way. "And take your hands off Tsuzuki-san. I claimed him first." He slid the seat back.

The cat scrambled from behind to sit in his lap. It began singing in a high-pitched voice: "Those who wait on the Light shall renew their strength-"

"You...you haven't claimed anything of importance." Tsuzuki turned back to Oriya, cheeks flushed. "Now do you believe me? He's got the power to manipulate all metallic objects. If you're the friend you claim to be, you've got to help me!"

"They shall mount up with wings like eagles," the cat sang.

"Don't you think I would've whacked some sense into him if I thought it could make a difference? I've tried for years to change his mind, but he never listened!" Oriya paused, visibly composing himself. "As long as he's enslaved by his hatred, there's nothing you or I or anyone in the entire world can do to make a difference. It's useless."

Genbu feinted to one side. The car swerved to the other side. Genbu darted the same way, forcing the car to screech and swerve yet again.

The cat remained seated in Muraki's lap, its finely-turned balance keeping it upright. "They shall run and not be weary-"

"Metallic toy of man," Genbu growled, "my patience grows thin with this game." He loomed over the car, his glittering stare focused on Muraki.

Muraki returned the gaze without fear. "You were no threat to me earlier. I have nothing to fear from you now."

The cat's thin voice was rising and falling in an oscillating vibrato. "They shall walk and not faint!"

Genbu snorted and fell back. "Prayers of hubris. I will end this assault against the Earth. Turning a Metal child against its Earth mother is a heinous crime that will not go unpunished. What the Earth gives, so the Earth can take away."

The ground shook. Concrete cracked around them.

"Glory be to the Light!" the cat shrieked.

Muraki's false eye began to glow. Tsuzuki winced - he could feel the burning ache between his shoulder blades.

"Muraki!" Oriya shouted. "Up ahead!"

The Ferrari braked, just as a huge worm erupted from the ground. Covered in gleaming black scales, lacking eyes or a mouth, it curled forwards with its sharp tip pointing at a 45-degree-angle towards the car. Yanked by an invisible towing chain, the Ferrari jerked towards it.

Muraki pressed his hands together. The steering wheel spun to one side. The car skidded sideways and spun around once again. But the car couldn't accelerate away. Slowly it inched backwards, tyres squealing on the bitumen.

Genbu faced them head-on, neck arched and flattened to form a menacing cobra-like hood that partially shielded the sight of his ugly horns. With jaws wide enough to swallow the vehicle whole, there was no escape. "Surrender," he hissed. "Metal must respect the Earth from which it was born. As one familiar with the generation cycle of the elements, surely you know this."

"Genbu's tail is rich in magnetite, the strongest magnetic ore found in nature," Tsuzuki said. "It gives him the ability to control the movements of objects containing iron, cobalt or nickel." Lifting himself up, Tsuzuki seated himself between the twin rollbars framing the headrests for a better view. "Your car's almost come to a complete stop, Muraki. Is that the best you can do?"

Oriya's gaze darted from the blind worm, to Muraki and his cat, Tsuzuki watching him, then on to Genbu's ugly head. He unbuckled his seatbelt and gripped his katana. Every single one of them was mad - the problem was deciding whom to behead first.

The Ferrari's engine roared again. Seated in his seat, Muraki's steely gaze did not waver through the fumes of burning rubber. "I no longer know fear! I've already survived my passage through the valley of the shadow of death!"

The cat clawed up on the dashboard and yowled: "The Light will not forsake us! Glory be to the Light!"

The Ferrari jerked once more. The tyres squealed in protest.

"Who would answer a prayer spoken with such arrogance?" Genbu leaned close, his jagged teeth hovering above the Ferrari's gleaming engine bay.

"I'd sooner wreck this car myself than turn it over to you."

"We shall see." Sulfurous vapour curled from Genbu's nostrils. Red-hot charcoal glowed within the recesses of his mouth.

Oriya leapt into action. In one mighty lunge he unsheathed his katana and swung it before Genbu's snout in a single fluid movement. "Stop! I don't care what god you are! You can't have him!"

Tsuzuki pulled him back. "Keep out of this!"

"Are you offering up your steel trinket?" Genbu's gold eyes gleamed with interest. "Very well. I accept."

The tip of the worm-like tail swept over the vehicle. Oriya's human strength was no match for the attractive pull of magnetite. The katana flew up and was caught, blade and all.

"Of all the..." Oriya turned his furious gaze on Tsuzuki, then Muraki. "Get it back!"

Peeved at being upstaged, Muraki was unsympathetic. "You're as hot-headed now as you were back in school. What made you throw away your precious sword?"

Tsuzuki observed them keenly from his raised position above the car's interior. Genbu did the same, his slitted eyes darting from one man to the other. The car's engine eased its mechanical growl to a rumbling purr.

"Because I wasn't aware you had some cunning plan up your sleeve to get out of this mess!"

"You brought this upon yourself when you abducted me at gunpoint. Did I not vow to release you of my troublesome presence? I never asked you to come back for me."

"I'm not doing this for you, you stubborn pig-headed fool! I'm doing it for Ukyou-chan!"

"And yourself, because you're still his friend." Tsuzuki's voice held a gentle but firm rebuke. "You put yourself in danger and risked the wrath of the Black Warrior to protect him. You care for him despite everything he's done. Isn't that the real reason you want to take him back?"

"You think I still care after all he's put us through?" Oriya retorted. "Hah! Hatred is the only emotion he understands, the one genuine feeling he's carried with him all his life. It's the reason he's cut himself off from everyone and cast them aside without blinking an eye. It's the reason he's able to operate on patients one night and callously murder a complete stranger the next. Everyone is beneath him. No one can ever live up to his impossible standards." Oriya turned away. "Whatever friendship we once shared has been exhausted by his supercilious attitude towards the entire universe."

The bitterness and pain in Oriya's voice spoke louder than his words. It was impossible for Tsuzuki not to feel for his predicament. The master of Kokakurou had done the best he could under trying circumstances. He didn't deserve to be criticised for being a poor friend - not when Muraki himself denigrated the concept of friendship in the first place.

Under different circumstances, Muraki and Oriya could have been very close friends...maybe something even more. They shared a comfortable rapport, and the kind of easy self-confidence Tsuzuki secretly envied.

"Why do you talk to him?" Muraki suddenly hauled Tsuzuki into his lap. "Is this your way of avoiding my question? The only feelings I care about are your feelings for me!" The Ferrari's engine increased its roar. The car inched away from the magnetic tail...and closer towards Genbu's waiting mouth.

The cat dived onto the dashboard in the nick of time.

"How selfish can you be? Must everything revolve around you? Your friend has come to save you...your car's going to be scrap metal...this isn't the time..."

Muraki's silencing kiss was rough and brutal. Tsuzuki writhed against him and pushed at his face. Feverish heat radiated from Muraki's flesh. His forehead was damp with sweat. Something was wrong.

Muraki lifted his head to draw breath. "Tonight I will make you confess all!" He glared across at a disgusted Oriya. "What?"

"Emotional blackmail. This is a new low, even for you."

"Be silent!"

"Feeding from me hasn't helped you, has it?" Tsuzuki asked. "You're still weak." He reached up to touch Muraki's face.

Muraki flinched from his hand. "And whose fault is that?" He turned away to address Genbu. "God of Earth! Do you mock me by withholding your destructive power? Why have you failed to crush me as you promised?"

"I was commanded to stop the car." Genbu swayed his tail from side to side. The car rocked as well, leaving the human passengers clinging for support. "I am carrying out my master's command."

Oriya sat hunched in his seat, coughing from the combination of sulfurous gas and burning rubber. "Turn off the engine. All you're doing is wearing out your fancy tyres." He tried to reach for the ignition, but was scratched by the grey cat for his trouble. "Shit! What was that for?"

"Humble yourself before the Light!" it yowled.

"Muraki, back down!" Tsuzuki pulled at the lapels of his jacket. "You're not up to challenging Genbu, and you know it! You're becoming too hot!"

"Of course I'm hot!" Muraki snapped impatiently. "Your body's responsiveness to my potent sexual aura is proof enough!"

"I meant temperature, dammit! You're burning up! Listen to me! I know you're overreaching yourself again!"

But Muraki was deaf to his words. "How the mighty have fallen!" he bellowed at Genbu. He stood up in the car, holding onto the windscreen for support. "You keep your powers leashed, exactly like your master! He's denied you the freedom to use your powers in the same way he has withheld his own!"

Genbu stopped rocking the car and lowered his head. "You dare to question the judgement to one who has given courage to soldiers before battle and insight to generals under siege?"

"I dare. Why did you consent to be neutered by the terms of such a contract?"

Too stunned to defend himself, Tsuzuki was lost for words.

Was it true? Had he really held them back against their will? But he had to do it. If his shikigami ran riot, many people would surely die. For the sake of fragile human lives, he had to limit the scope of their powers - or risk repeating the destruction in EnmaCho and Shion University all over again. This was the compromise each of them accepted when they agreed to serve him under contract...not that they had much of a choice. Tsuzuki bowed his head, suddenly ashamed.

"Absolute power has no need of overblown spectacle to prove its greatness," Genbu rasped. "No clever games or deceitful trickery are necessary to draw attention to its importance. There is no act too humble nor deed too trivial for such power to manifest itself, for it leaves an indelible impression on all who are privileged enough to be near it."

Gratitude and relief gave Tsuzuki the courage to look up at his shikigami.

"Most importantly, it leaves a mark on the bearer too: the responsibility to use one's gift wisely and well. This is not a burden one can learn to shoulder in a day." Genbu's gaze flicked to Tsuzuki. "Or in a lifetime. This is the cross an ageless god must bear throughout eternity."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Oriya muttered. "He's a fire-breathing serpent one minute, an old-fashioned agony aunt the next."

"Absolute power?" Muraki sneered. "Shackled power is no power at all! Remain unmoved as stone, your true face hidden, and you merely leave yourself vulnerable to others to seize the opportunity!" Muraki lifted his chin, and the Ferrari roared again. Thick black smoke poured from its exhaust. "I defy you by despoiling the Earth - so what will you do with me?"

Tsuzuki found his voice. "Stop it, Muraki! Your power is limited! You know you can't win!"

"I promised to prove myself worthy of you, ne? Those of us with nothing have nothing to lose!" He eyed Genbu once more. "Will you punish me for my heresy? Or will you stay your hand as your master desires? Answer me, Guardian of Wisdom!"

"Do not put a god to the test," Genbu replied. His head swayed from side to side, ready to strike.

The letters in Muraki's false eye coalesced to become a beam of pure white light. "Why not? You won't harm me: not now, not ever. Your master's timidity has infected you too!"

The Ferrari inched away from the tail, moving closer and closer to Genbu's hovering head.

Genbu was not intimidated by the white light. If anything, it made him appear even more sinister. His iridescent pupils shone with quicksilver violet-green flame. The glaring beam transformed the wrinkles beneath his throat into deep cracks, and gave the horns adorning his head an oily sheen. With his craggy profile shadowed from above, he looked like a primitive totem statue hewn out of volcanic basalt. This was a cruel God of Earth, merciless and unyielding - a deity who seemed far too remote to concern himself with the prayer of any summoner.

"Flashing eye of lightning fire," Genbu rumbled, "your arrogance will be your downfall. You have forgotten the origin of your power. Your ignorance dooms you to darkness. You will spend eternity crawling amid the chaos of your own making!"

Muraki tightened his grip around Tsuzuki's shoulders. "If I am condemned to be in ignorant darkness, then at least I won't be alone!"

Tsuzuki could feel Muraki leaning against him for support. His entire body was quivering with effort. "Enough. You've shown you can stand up to Genbu. Now stop before you use up your energy! You know your body can only handle so much!"

"Not until you tell me the words I want to hear! Do you love me?"

All Tsuzuki could see of him was the burning false eye. The rest of his features were shrouded in gloom. Now that the human guise was gone, Muraki's appearance horrified him beyond imagination. This creature holding him was a stranger. There was nothing he could recognise of the Muraki he knew...nothing except his indomitable will, daring to defy natural and supernatural law alike. The same will that enabled him to rape and kill without remorse. The same will that drove Tsuzuki to stab and leave him for dead once before.

And Muraki had learned nothing. Unbowed and selfish, callous to the core, he was doomed to a life of sin and suffering.

_Monster! You're a monster!_

_No human has eyes like that! You're not human!_

Tsuzuki's hands crept up to Muraki's long throat. The pulse at the base of his neck thudded wildly beneath his fingertips. Maybe it was best to let him destroy himself in this hopelessly unequal battle. Surely it was better to rest in peace than live at war against the entire universe?

_We are the same, you and I. One blood, one spirit._

_Even if you kill me, your deep sadness...will never be healed._

"I..." Tsuzuki squeezed his eyes shut and seized Muraki in a suffocating hug. "No! Stop it, please! I can't love you, not when you're like this!"

Muraki staggered back, and the light in his eye winked out. Tsuzuki clutched him and lowered him down.

"I can't love you, not when you're so cold and ruthless and you use kagetsu magic to block out the love in your heart!" Tears threatened to choke his trembling voice. "Not when you remind me of everything I hate about myself!"

Genbu bowed his head and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. His tail changed into a pillar of rock, from which Oriya's sword clattered to the ground. Free of Genbu's magnetic pull, the car jolted forward then spluttered to a halt.

Muraki lay sprawled in his seat, nostrils flared with each exhalation, jaw clenched. Curled awkwardly in his lap, Tsuzuki wept against his shoulder.

"You want me to love you? Then don't be like me!" With one fist he struck Muraki's heaving chest. "Go back to Tokyo! Become a doctor again! Devote yourself to extending the lives of your patients, and compensate for the lives I cut short. Redeem yourself for me, and I will love you for it. You can give them time, the most precious gift of all."

A strangled sound left Muraki's lips. He eyed Tsuzuki's bent head with an expression close to hatred. "Time! Time for what?"

"To put their affairs in order, fulfil a long-held wish...or just say goodbye. To do whatever it is they have to do to set their soul at rest. No shikigami has the power to salvage time from the jaws of death. That's one thing only you can do for me." Tsuzuki seized one of Muraki's hands and brought it to his lips. "I know your skilled hands can cleanse my stained ones. Your selfless good work can strike out my crimes. I just know it!"

"Do you mock me? Why do you glorify my profession when you can undo it all with a wave of your hand? It's all useless! Useless! Haven't you realised that you have the potential to unlock unlimited power and create new life-"

"I don't want it!" Tsuzuki's voice became high-pitched, hysterical. "I don't want Wood or Water energy from you! I don't want things coming to life when I touch them or feathers growing out of my back!" Sobs shook his body. "All I want is to be human..."

The animosity in Muraki's features fell away, leaving him weary and old. "Fool."

Still hunched in the adjacent passenger seat, Oriya slowly raised his head. He blinked at the sight of them together, then froze when he noticed the expression on Muraki's face.

"A normal human...not a misfit...human like you..." Tsuzuki's muffled words were almost inaudible. "That's why...I wanted to be with you...in the land of the living..."

Muraki sighed heavily. The movement of air brushed Tsuzuki's hair. "This 'normal' human you aspire to be is only an illusion - a non-existent beast."

His words held no comfort. His lax arms provided no reassurance. Nevertheless, Tsuzuki found some respite from his grief in Muraki's physical presence. The cooling of Muraki's body temperature, the slowing tempo of his erratic breaths, and the familiar scent of his cologne - these simple sensations gradually worked their soothing spell over him.

Oriya sat up in his seat. His shoulders began to shake, followed by his head. A stifled chuckle grew into a full-throated laugh. Cowering on the dashboard, the cat turned to look at him.

Muraki cast a hostile glance his way. "What's so funny?"

"The two of you! He's a Shinigami who wants to save lives, and you're a surgeon who goes around killing people. Why don't you both swap jobs for a while? See for yourselves how green the grass is on the other side. I bet that would straighten the two of you out."

Muraki snorted. "Of course. The perfect solution. All I have to do is work out how to pass on a decade's worth of surgical training, and we can get started."

Tsuzuki let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "You'd make a terrible Shinigami." He lifted his head and wiped the tears from reddened eyes. "You'd never be able to make a contract with a shikigami. Your attitude would bring down their wrath. They'd punish you for your arrogance."

Muraki straightened his shoulders. His shield of haughty defiance was sliding back into place.

Tsuzuki managed a glimmer of a smile. Despite Muraki's obvious tiredness, he looked a little more like the Muraki he knew. "See? You shouldn't put a god to the test, Muraki. It's just not worth the trouble."

The cat stood up, ears pricked, and walked over to the driver's door. A tremor shook the ground.

Tsuzuki turned to open the car door, then quickly clambered out. Genbu was standing on the road in his human form, a little old man with a long beard and a granite staff.

"The car moves no more. This is as it should be: Metal obedient to Mother Earth." He stamped the staff once. A tremor shook the ground.

"Thanks for your help." Tsuzuki looked around at the cracked bitumen, buckled railing, and the divided mountain without its tunnel: a scene of apocalyptic-like destruction. "But did you have to turn this place into a war zone?"

"I did what was necessary to fulfil your request," Genbu made the ground shake with a stamp of his granite staff, "and nourish the Earth."

"But you're nourishing the Earth a bit too much." Tsuzuki almost tripped over a jagged fragment of bitumen sticking out of the ground.

"The Earth has become weak in my absence," Genbu reminded him.

"Look, there's even blades of grass growing here! It's unnatural, Genbu. People are going to be suspicious."

"Good. Let them witness the Earth's resilient proliferation for themselves."

Inside the car, Oriya was incredulous. "Is that dwarf the same creature that attacked us before?"

"Yes." Muraki took out a cigarette and lit it with the car lighter. "That dwarf is the human avatar of the snake-tortoise Genbu, shikigami governing Earth. One of the twelve under Tsuzuki-san's command." Belatedly he offered Oriya the cigarette pack.

Oriya shook his head. "You sure? Why's he allowing the dwarf to talk back? He acts more like a keeper than a master."

"He does. He remains in stubborn denial about the extent of his powers." Muraki treated himself to a satisfying puff of nicotine.

"I can't believe you've entered into an alliance with someone from the world of the dead." Oriya looked closely at him. "I thought his kind were the enemy. What do you get out of it? Wasn't summoning demons good enough?"

"Demons are rich in knowledge, but their power is weak. In contrast, Tsuzuki-san has much power within him and little awareness of how to wield it. That is why I've been sent here." Muraki slowly removed his glasses and turned to face Oriya.

A mass of glowing hieroglyphic lines danced around the slit-like pupil of his false eye.

"What the hell is that?"

"The name of the one who spared my life in the laboratory inferno. His clemency is the reason I was able to return from barren purgatory to the land of the living. Now I perform deeds to bring praise and glory to his name."

"His name? I can't read anything."

"Only those with the knowledge may decipher it." Muraki put on his glasses. "Imbued with the glory of heaven, forged in the annihilation of hell, it is too sacred a word to be uttered aloud. Such is its power that even those who bestowed it keep the pronunciation a closely guarded secret."

"Is...is there any way to remove it?"

"Only the one who placed it there may erase it." Muraki looked outside to where Tsuzuki and Genbu were arguing loudly about how to clear the crushed bitumen. "He need only say the word, and his will is done."

"I see." Oriya was silent for a moment as he digested this. "But the Shinigami said he wanted to help rid you of your power. He's got no idea what's written there, huh? Why haven't you warned him about what he's up against?"

"He will know soon enough. Tsuzuki-san only sees what he wants to see because he's become so accustomed to repressing his innate ability. When his power is unlocked, his acuity will become keener than mine or yours."

In the distance, Genbu banged his staff on the ground in protest. The ground began shaking. Tsuzuki fell on his knees, begging him to stop.

"He doesn't look that convincing to me."

"He hides his power well, but not for long. I shall awaken all that lies within him."

The cat leapt into his lap, and began rubbing its face against his chest. Muraki rubbed its jaw and smiled down at it.

"And make it your own, naturally. You were never a team player." Oriya's tone was ironic. "Well, bizarre markings and strange powers aside, it's reassuring to see that you've held on to your megalomaniac ambitions. If you can't beat them, join them, hmm?"

"Indeed. You always were one of the few who could accept me for what I am, warts and all." Muraki's sidelong look held wry amusement.

"Only because I gave up trying to change your mind years ago."

"Then don't start now. My purpose is to awaken this dreaming fool. I must go before him and prepare the way. This is my penance. This is my fate."

Resized in his entire snake-tortoise form, Genbu was crushing the bitumen rubble with his feet. Seated on the black carapace, Tsuzuki directed his movements.

Oriya looked down at his empty scabbard. "Hmph. So he can turn a shikigami into his personal steamroller. He can't be that much of a pushover." He got out of the car to retrieve his katana. Its surface was scratched and pitted with small dents.

Muraki joined him, the cat prowling at his feet. "He is their master in name only. His shikigami are loyal to him because he lavishes them with the praise and worship they crave. In return, he can call on them to intercede on his behalf. A typical example of a mutually advantageous relationship."

"Mutually advantageous relationship." Oriya snorted. "Trust you to use such impersonal words to describe friendship."

"But it's true. Your blade is damaged, ne? Give it to me." Muraki studied the flat face of the blade and tsked to himself. Holding the handgrip with one hand, he placed thumb and forefinger over the flat of the blade.

"Muraki, what-"

With a quick movement, Muraki slid his fingers along the entire length of the blade. He swung it around to hand it to Oriya, handgrip first, blade tip pointing down.

In the glare of the headlights, the steel shone with a brilliant gleam. The hand-forged grain was enhanced, and there wasn't the slightest smear of a fingerprint along the rippled temper line. Oriya brushed his thumb across the cutting edge, then looked up, his manner subdued.

"The Shinigami was right about your power over metal. The finest blade polishers in Kyoto would take weeks to make it this sharp, and longer to make it look good."

Muraki bowed in acknowledgement of the praise. "Take your weapon and return to Kokakurou. You have fulfilled your promise to Ukyou-chan, and discharged your duty as a good friend. I'm not the Muraki she remembers anymore. That boy died a long time ago."

"Very well." Oriya sheathed the blade in a single stroke. "I'll leave you with your 'dreaming fool,' but only because he's managed to do something I thought impossible."

"You can sense it, too, ne? Even when dormant, Tsuzuki-san's power is formidable."

"His power's got nothing to do with it. He managed to crack that smug facade of yours. Seeing that made the trip here worthwhile." He brushed past Muraki, ignoring his withering glare. "Take care of yourself. Don't make the mistake of underestimating him a second time. He's tried incinerating you before. As I recall, Fire melts Metal."

Muraki watched him take the driver's seat, his expression brooding. "Did I give you permission to take my car?"

"Hey, you want me to get out of your hair or what? I promise I won't drive as recklessly as you."

"Let him leave it in the airport carpark." Tsuzuki came up behind Muraki, hands in the pockets of his coat. He'd left Genbu in the background to trudge around in slow circles. "I can easily return it back to your apartment."

They watched Oriya start the engine, do a careful U-turn over the rubble, then roar off.

Genbu stomped in displeasure at the noisy exit. "Vandalism again!" he rasped. "The Earth will not forget this sacrilege."

"Keep breaking down those pieces!" Tsuzuki crushed a smaller fragment with his heel, his gaze focused on the ground. "It hurt to push him away, didn't it? Kagetsu magic can dull the pain of being apart from the ones you love, but it only provides temporary relief." He ignored the cat rubbing itself against his leg. "Their voices live on in the hidden corners of your mind, crying out for you to return home. That's your conscience in action, Muraki - a power no shadow magic can ever eclipse for good."

Muraki's gaze, obscured by his fringe of silver hair, was fixed on the Ferrari's receding lights. He was uncharacteristically silent.

Tsuzuki turned away. "If you really gave a damn about my feelings for you, you would've left with him. I meant every word I said. I'm not in love with you."

"That's not what you said earlier." Muraki's voice was deadly quiet. "Say it to my face."

"You heard me the first time." Tsuzuki kept walking. A treacherous weakness was seeping into his limbs - anticipation and dread in equal measure.

Muraki's footsteps crunched behind him. Tsuzuki's heart pounded double time. Mentally he braced himself for the physical onslaught.

But Muraki strode past him without a glance. He went to Genbu and stood directly in his path.

Genbu came to a stop. Towering over Muraki, he peered down at him along the length of his leathery snout.

"God of Earth!" Muraki bowed before him. "I am tormented by a most troubling matter of the heart. Could you grant me the gift of your invaluable advice?"

Genbu dipped his head to Muraki's level and eyed him for a long moment. Then he swung his head up, teeth bared in a fearsome grin. "Ask and I will advise!"

"Genbu!" Tsuzuki ran between them. "Hold on a minute! What are you helping _him_ for?"

"He seeks my counsel on a personal matter." Genbu lashed his tail from side to side, pleased at being consulted. "It is my responsibility as Guardian of Wisdom to provide guidance to those who seek it, and this one needs my wisdom more than most. Speak," he commanded Muraki. "I am listening."

"Please explain to me why you failed to punish me for assaulting the Earth. You have shown a degree of mercy unprecedented for one once feted as the God of War."

"Your metal toy was halted. Punishment is unnecessary in the face of surrender."

Tsuzuki grimaced. Genbu's bluntness was the last thing he needed. "Okay, Genbu, that's enough." He pushed at the shikigami's tree-trunk-sized leg. "Get back to cleaning up."

"I see." Muraki straightened the lapels of his jacket, his movements betraying his annoyance. "But even if I refused to surrender, you wouldn't have crushed me, ne? You were acting under you master's commands, ne? Your empty threats were nothing more than the bombastic ravings of an impotent geriatric fool, because Tsuzuki-san instructed you to keep me safe from harm all this time!"

Tsuzuki was horrified, then furious. "Muraki! How...how dare you insult Genbu!" He stormed towards him. "Apologise! Apologise at once!"

Genbu observed them curiously. He appeared neither hurt nor offended by the outburst. Fearing more violence, the cat sought shelter behind a large piece of bitumen.

Muraki pulled Tsuzuki into his arms. "The evidence is irrefutable. If you won't admit it, I'll get your shikigami to do it for you!" He turned to Genbu. "Answer me this, Guardian of Wisdom: does your master love me?"

"Muraki, how dare you-!" Tsuzuki swung back to Genbu. "He doesn't deserve an answer! Not after the way he's insulted you!"

Genbu's head hovered above both men. His golden reptilian eyes were fixed and unblinking - as if he was looking through them to focus on something else beyond the range of normal vision. "He loves you."

A grin of pure triumph spread across Muraki's face.

Tsuzuki wanted to curl into a ball and die of shame. Manipulating his own shikigami to reveal his weakness - Muraki's gall was staggering.

"He loves you," Genbu repeated, "in the same way he loves all things great and small, friend and foe, material and immaterial. His capacity to give love is great indeed." His slitted gaze focused on Muraki. "Follow his example. Therein lies the path to the true Light." With that, he reared his neck into a regal arch and trudged around them, crushing the bitumen pieces with his ponderous footsteps.

It took several stunned seconds for Tsuzuki to realise he was safe. Genbu had given Muraki the benefit of his wisdom - and kept the truth to himself.

"Is that true?" Muraki was frozen, visibly shell-shocked. His trembling fingers curled into Tsuzuki's shoulders. "Am I...no different?"

Tsuzuki's heart twisted at the sight. But this wasn't the time to show mercy.

"It's not true! It can't be true!" Muraki gave Tsuzuki a violent shake. "No one can please you the way I do! No one!"

Tsuzuki held out his arms – the one comfort he could safely offer. "Come here. You've depleted your energy again, haven't you?"

Muraki half-slumped against Tsuzuki, exhausted. With his arrogance punctured, his adrenaline drained, he was a shadow of himself. "But I...need you more. More than anyone..." His voice was little more than a feeble whimper. "I must feed." His teeth nibbled the side of Tsuzuki's neck.

"It's all right. Open yourself up to me, and you'll never go hungry again."

Muraki nipped him hard, but didn't pull away. His tongue licked at the drops of blood oozing from the wound. "Feed me," he whispered. "I must feed."

Unseen to Muraki, Tsuzuki closed his eyes in fervent relief. "Of course. I'll feed you as much as you want - my way."

* * *

Back in Meifu, Hisoka was cleaning up the test tubes and flasks. Watari carried a stack of printouts over to the bench.

"Come look, Bon! I've got your results right here."

Hisoka dried his hands on a paper towel. "Is that my mineral analysis?" He peered at the bar graph and the many symbols printed along its axes. "So am I normal? I've got readings for most of the minerals."

"Yes, you're within the normal range for all of them. And so am I." Watari showed him a similar graph with his name on it. "003's results are a bit different, but since she's a different species that's not so unexpected. I'm sure she's in good health anyway."

Seated on Watari's shoulder, 003 took great care to preen her remaining feathers.

"I ran the analysis on our samples a second time, and the outcomes were the same. That means that the method I'm using gives reliable and reproducible results." He sighed and pulled out two more graphs. "So that means these results must be valid."

The bars in one graph were mere stubs sitting on the horizontal axis. In the other graph, bars were completely absent.

"There's widespread deficiency in all essential minerals," Watari explained. "This subject must be severely malnourished. I'm not even sure such a result is compatible with life!" He chuckled sheepishly. "Mind you, mineral analysis using hair isn't widely used in medicine. It doesn't have the same reliability as serum readings. So we shouldn't take these results too seriously on their own. If the owner of the hair has no symptoms, then it's probably the test that contains the anomaly, not him."

Hisoka noticed that no name was listed at the top of these graphs - only the names 'SUBJECT A1' and 'SUBJECT A2.' "Whose hair is it?" he asked.

"I wish I knew. Tsuzuki didn't tell me anything-"

"Don't treat me like a child. It's him, isn't it?" Hisoka took a deep breath in, then out. He couldn't even bring himself to say the man's name, so deep was his revulsion. "You and Tsuzuki were investigating him behind my back!"

"Now you're jumping to conclusions, Bon! Tsuzuki only asked me to carry out this test this morning...well, yesterday morning now. He never told me the subject's name-"

"Long fine hair, like platinum thread! How many people do we know with hair like that?" Hisoka scrunched one of the hair sample printouts with his fist. "What the hell are you testing his hair for? Who cares if he's starving for food? I only wish those results were real, and he's as dead as all the poor people he's killed!" He ripped the sheets of paper apart.

"Take it easy, Bon! Get a grip on yourself!" Watari stood up. "Lose control of your emotions, and you'll only be justifying Tsuzuki's decision to keep you in the dark! The last thing he'd want is for you to be upset like this! He's always wanted to protect you!"

"Protect me?" Hisoka began pacing the floor, visibly agitated. "Is that all I am - a helpless babe who needs to be protected? Why won't he ever ask _me_ for help? Doesn't he trust me? Does he think I'm useless?"

"Hush, Bon. That's not true."

"Then tell me what he's thinking, Watari-san! Tell me, because he never tells me anything! He just goes around wearing his big goofy smile, all cheerful and happy, and it's so obvious he's covering up his true face!" He lowered his head, shoulders hunched. "I know I'm younger, and spiritually a lot weaker...but I really believed things would be different after the Kyoto case..."

Watari placed a hand on his shoulder. Hisoka flinched, but Watari ignored it.

"Sit down, Bon. I'll try to explain what I know about the way Tsuzuki's mind works. When you understand, you won't have to keep blaming yourself for being a bad partner. You're not the only one he's driven to distraction, you know."

Hisoka allowed himself to be led to Watari's desk chair. 003 landed on his shoulder and hooted gently, trying to offer what comfort she could. Watari returned with a mug of hot water and a teabag for them both.

"I know it's not the best, but it's all I have."

"It's fine." Hisoka took a sip. "It's a bit sweet, isn't it?"

"Ahh, that must be the licorice." Watari grinned sheepishly. "I like sweet things."

"Just like Tsuzuki," Hisoka murmured. He took another sip. "You're alike in a lot of ways. I guess if anyone's going to understand him, it'll be you."

Watari's joviality changed into a thoughtful wariness.

Hisoka put down the mug. "Well, start explaining. Tell me what makes Tsuzuki tick."

Watari began talking, and Hisoka listened. But it became difficult to focus on what Watari was saying. He took another sip of tea to keep awake. It didn't help. It had been a long day, and he was more of a morning person. His head began to nod, and his eyelids drooped. Within minutes he was dozing head down on the desk.

"It's all right, Bon." Watari's voice was soothing as he took the mug away. "It's way past your bedtime, and mine as well. I'll take you home and tuck you in, okay?" He lifted Hisoka in his arms.

003 fluttered down onto Watari's shoulders and pecked at his ear.

"Hey! This is for his own good! There's not much he can do about it at this hour. Let him sleep it off, and he can wake up refreshed and ready to berate Tsuzuki all he wants tomorrow."

003 hooted and flapped her wings.

"I don't like deceiving him either, but I had no other choice. They're willing to look the other way for Tsuzuki, but I doubt they'd extend the same leniency to Bon." He sighed. "Tsuzuki, Tsuzuki. For this you owe me a _year's_ supply of sweets."


	25. Obstructions to seduction

LATE NIGHT NEWS ALERT

A strong earthquake shook the island of Kyushu at 12:48 a.m. The epicentre is believed to be 15 kilometres north of the city of Nagasaki. Authorities report the quake magnitude as 6.0 on the Richter scale. Several sections of the Nagasaki expressway have sustained heavy damage, and will be closed to traffic while authorities assess the situation. No human casualties or tsunami activity reported. Residents are advised to be on the alert for aftershocks.

* * *

"Enough, Muraki! Control yourself!" 

Muraki wasn't listening. Teasing nips soon became bites against Tsuzuki's neck.

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki by the throat and wrenched him off. Warm blood dripped down his neck from the open wound. "I'll feed you, but only on my terms!"

Muraki licked the blood from his lips. "Your flavour is even richer than before." His voice was husky, breathless. "I can taste the pulp of the ripest fruit, the nectar of the sweetest flowers. So this is the taste of eternal life!"

Tsuzuki let him go as if he'd been stung. Fruit, flowers...surely Muraki knew about the transformation of his powers too. But what was done was done. All he could do now was keep calm and control the repercussions.

Muraki looked around, suddenly aware they were no longer on the crumbling roadway. "Where have you taken us?"

Moonlight filtered through the overhead branches of a single dead tree. The air was acrid with sulfurous vapour. The ground beneath their feet was rocky and devoid of plant life. From behind a small hill came the sound of splashing water.

Tsuzuki wrapped his customary black trenchcoat around himself and began walking up the hill. The wound on his neck was already drying in the cool night air. "Come and I'll show you."

"I wasn't aware we were going somewhere else. My apartment is far more comfortable--"

"It's my turn to take you out." Tsuzuki didn't look over his shoulder.

The taste of Tsuzuki's blood wasn't the only thing that was different about him - and Muraki wasn't sure if he was pleased about it. His covetous eyes never left Tsuzuki's dark figure as he reluctantly followed. In his weakened state he had little choice.

"Where is my cat?"

"It's safe. Genbu will ensure it comes to no harm."

Behind the crest of the hill was a natural hot spring surrounded by warm rocks. Sulfurous vapour drifted up from one side, while warm water trickled out of crevices located on the other side. The rippling surface of the water was a toxic mixture of pale blue and yellow-brown.

"Jigoku," Muraki announced. "Hell on earth, according to the locals. A pleasant place for a relaxing soak, providing one doesn't mind being boiled alive. Are we in Kyushu's Unzen Spa region?"

"Yeah. Unzen is famous throughout the country for its abundant hot springs, but the springs safe for humans are occupied by onsen resorts." Tsuzuki took out a smooth black rock from the pocket of his trenchcoat and threw it in the water. "A gift from Genbu. This stone will remove the sulfur and neutralise the acidity of the water."

The water's surface cleared to form a mirror reflecting the moon against the inky blackness of the clear sky. The sulfurous odour dissipated. Only clouds of steam wafted from the water's surface.

"There, that should do it. Go in and revive yourself in this spring. Heated by the energy of the Earth's core, this water will nourish the Metal you thrive on."

"Aren't you joining me?"

"You're the one who's deficient in elemental energy." Tsuzuki took off his trenchcoat and laid it over a low rock. He eyed the smear of blood along Muraki's cheek. "Plus you could use a bath."

Muraki wiped it away using his sleeve. "Very well." Scowling to himself, he began removing his tie. "I will feed from you later." More a command than a request.

Tsuzuki kept his rejoinder to himself. He sat down on the rock calmly enough, but inside his heart was pounding.

He kept his gaze on the spring while Muraki undressed. The sheen of pale flesh illuminated by moonlight lingered at the periphery of his vision, threatening his resolve. It took considerable willpower not to admire Muraki's physique.

Stepping barefoot over the rocks, Muraki walked to the water's edge. He was completely nude, and directly in Tsuzuki's line of vision. He could have been the Biblical Adam before the Fall - the very first man, a creature at one with nature, untouched by the burden of self-consciousness or shame.

Embarrassed, Tsuzuki focused on the rocks at Muraki's feet.

"Why do you avert your gaze?" Muraki asked. "My body is yours to admire and appreciate."

"I was trying to give you some privacy! Would you rather I ogle you while you stripped off?"

"Naturally. I am yours." Puzzlement hardened into jealousy. "Do I not please you?"

Tsuzuki wasn't sure whether to explode with laughter or exasperation. "Don't be silly. You're the one who insisted you were so hot, remember?" He cast a quick glance at Muraki's flaccid cock. "Your energy reserves must be low. But I'm sure this spring will perk you right up." He looked away, a mischievous smile hovering about his lips. "That would please me most of all, Muraki."

"I see." Muraki's tone was aloof, but his eyes smouldered. "In that case, I shall obey." He carefully placed one foot in the water. After pausing for a few seconds, he placed the other foot in as well.

"Is the temperature all right?"

Muraki stepped down until he was chest-deep in the spring. "It will do." He cupped some water in his hands and splashed it over his face.

No reaction. No complaint. Muraki wasn't troubled by the spring water one bit.

Tsuzuki picked up a blackened twig, the remains of a plant withered by the acidic soil, and crushed it between his fingertips.

Muraki's obedience was temporary. Once he regained his energy, he would be his usual domineering self. Limit Muraki's energy reserves, and his ability to cause mayhem would be curbed as well.

Tsuzuki knew it was the easiest method to keep Muraki compliant. The only reason he'd taken so long to accept it was because of his own hubris. Despite all their arguing and fighting, he had secretly hoped he could earn Muraki's trust with kindness, and teach him to love by example. What foolishness.

_Hatred is the only emotion he understands, the one genuine feeling he's carried with him all his life._

Hearing the words of Muraki's long-time friend forced him to face the ugly truth.

In his clenched hand, something was wriggling. Small shoots squirmed free between his fingers. When Tsuzuki opened his hand, he found the crushed twigs were now a mass of living seedlings. Alarmed, he dropped it at once.

More Wood energy. A shameful sign of the excess energy absorbed from his couplings with Muraki.

Or was it? For as long as he could remember, his family's garden had thrived all year round. Could that have been his doing? This gift of bringing plants to life...did he once possess such mastery over Wood?

Tsuzuki stared down at his hands. He couldn't remember.

He searched his pockets for a pair of protective gloves, and found the velvet ones Muraki had given him. He slid them on, buckled the clasps around his wrists, then used a Fire Attack fuda to make a small campfire. The little branch crackled and burned when he tossed it in the flames.

Muraki waded back to the bank. With his head and shoulders visible above the water, he placed his forearms on the rocks. The dancing glow of the flames lit the glistening droplets on his angular face.

"Do you feel stronger?" Tsuzuki asked.

"A little. I seldom visit onsens, but I imagine having an entire spring to oneself would be a rare indulgence."

"Then you should go more often. There's nothing like a hot spring to wash one's cares away and soothe aches and pains. Kyushu is famous for having the finest natural springs in Japan." A trace of envy crept into Tsuzuki's voice. "It's been a while since I've been to a hot spring."

"Then why do you hold back? Come join me, and we can relax together."

"I can't, and you know it. I've got more energy than my body can handle. Bathing in this Earth-rich spring will only make my condition worse." Tsuzuki used several rocks to form a containment ring around the fire. "But I suppose that's been your goal. By giving me your essence, you're changing my powers. The regeneration cycle of the elements is stirring within me." He looked up, visibly distraught. "Is Wood the fifth element you spoke of? How is it a threat to shikigami? Why have you given it to me?"

"Enma sealed it within you. I've merely helped you to unleash it. This power has always been yours to claim, Tsuzuki-san."

"Mine? But what am I supposed to do with it--"

"Do not worry about such trivialities." Muraki's voice was soft and seductive. "I promised to let you sleep until the full moon, ne? I'll feed from you until the growing pains subside--"

"And then what? You'll get carried away and return your 'essence' back to me. That's what always happens. We'll be back where we started. You're incapable of keeping your word."

"It takes two to tango, Tsuzuki-san. You chose to feed from _me_ twice this evening."

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. "I admit...I enjoy it. I secretly hoped that we could continue like this - meeting up now and then as long as we weren't hurting anyone. But after what's happened tonight..." Tsuzuki's voice became bleak. "I don't want you to exhaust yourself for my sake. I don't want to be transformed into some kind of freaky mutant. If you think I'm going to use my new powers to further your schemes, you're making a big mistake."

"Simply seeing your body stir is reward enough. Later when you submit to the communion of flesh and blood, your mind will awaken too." His eyes fell on Tsuzuki's gloved hands. "You won't be able to hide any longer."

Tsuzuki added more twigs, one by one, to avoid suffocating the flames. "And neither will you, Muraki Kazutaka."

Muraki lifted a brow. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Your kagetsu spell. Kagetsu is a Yin type of magic, more suited to defence and camouflage than all-out attack." Tsuzuki's eyes were on the fire he tended. "Typically it manifests itself as a shield protecting the bearer from physical harm. But there's another type of kagetsu spell - one that's invisible because it's internally directed within the mind of the bearer. It has the power to mask negative emotions that threaten an individual's psyche."

Muraki snorted dismissively. "Your illusion fuda caught the cobwebs of my old life, nothing more."

"I sometimes used kagetsu magic for the very same reason. After a harrowing case, I'd be haunted by guilt for days." Tsuzuki lowered his eyes to his gloved hands. "I'd relive the events, wondering what I could've done differently. Demons seemed a lot more hungry for human souls back then. I had to fight many battles with my shikigami. And the result was the same each time: suffering, bloodshed, destruction...and death." The flickering play of light and shadow partially shielded his face. "I had all this power, yet I felt so powerless. The futility of being a shinigami began to eat away at my soul."

"So you let the secretary block out your unwanted feelings?" Muraki's grim expression indicated he already knew the answer.

"My emotions were a liability, so he used his kagetsu magic to numb my heart. Thanks to him I could become an effective reaper of souls, and fulfil my oath to DaiOh-sama." He looked down at Muraki, his expression infinitely sad. "You've done the same thing with your kagetsu spell: masking what human emotion you've got left."

"I have no regrets about my decision. Your pity is wasted on me, Tsuzuki-san." A hint of derision edged Muraki's flinty voice. "A surgeon's humanity is his greatest liability. His hand cannot afford to tremble with uncertainty as he holds his scalpel. His body is not allowed to slump with fatigue while he stands at the operating table. Most importantly, his mind cannot afford the luxury of wallowing in self-doubt when he intervenes in the struggle between life and death." He began to rise out of the water.

"Stay there." Casually spoken, yet an implicit command.

"I can only draw so much sustenance from this spring. Soaking here is an inadequate substitute for feeding--"

"I don't want you to exhaust yourself anymore. You're to stay there until you're fully re-energised." Tsuzuki untied his shoes. "If you're truly mine, then I suppose I should take charge of your well-being." He sat at the spring's edge and dangled both legs in the water.

Muraki slowly slid back into the water. "Very well." He immersed himself into the water. The ripples scattered the reflected moonlight then reformed around the place he had been, effectively concealing his movements.

Several seconds passed. Tsuzuki tensed. Was he all right?

Something warm slid playfully along the instep of his foot. The next moment Muraki resurfaced on the other side of Tsuzuki, and rested his head on the rocky ledge close to Tsuzuki's dangling leg. A normal person would have been gasping for air. Muraki wasn't even short of breath.

"Your power has outgrown these gloves. They can only serve as articles of clothing now," he murmured. "Placing a new charm on the buckles would be useless."

Tsuzuki felt foolish. "It doesn't matter," he muttered. "For someone who depends on Metal, you're very confident in the water."

"I learned to swim as a child." A lazy shrug. "I preferred solo sports in school. I was never a team player."

Muraki's greedy impatience was in abeyance for the moment. With his nape and upper back gilded by moonlight, he flaunted his long graceful physique. His expression was serene, composed, and more than a little self-satisfied. Confident of his sex appeal and Tsuzuki's undivided attention, he appeared willing to wait.

Five rows of red scratch marks lined each of Muraki's shoulder blades - the only blemish over his alabaster smooth flesh.

"Why don't you use your Metal powers to speed up the healing process? You'd only expend a little energy to heal those cuts."

"And deprive you of the opportunity to gaze upon your handiwork?" Muraki's thin lips curved in a conspiratorial smile. "Never. I wear them in memory of you...and the nights of bliss we have shared together."

Tsuzuki didn't need any reminding. "Your career as a surgeon in Tokyo is over, isn't it? You'll never be able to practise in a hospital as a wanted man. So you came to Nagasaki to hide - until the police and then your friend from Kyoto came searching for you." Tsuzuki lowered his gaze to his gloved hands. "I was hoping you'd go back with him. The two of you seem so close. You could've hidden out at his place for a while, then made a new life for yourself somewhere else."

"Oriya is a man of honour and integrity. I couldn't wish for a finer friend. Nevertheless, I've taken advantage of his loyalty once too often. I made a vow I wouldn't embroil him in my affairs again."

"So you endanger him with your reckless driving in order to summon me back? How could you gamble with his life? What kind of monster are you?"

"Yours," Muraki said simply. "I told you from the beginning."

The answer brought Tsuzuki no joy. "You've renounced your friends, your career and reputation through your actions. You've paid a very heavy price to be 'mine' - a price you might come to regret later."

"Basking in your living presence is my reward." Muraki sounded amused, but his answer was serious. "I was comforted by your visitations. I was nourished by your flesh and blood. I shall want for nothing as long as I walk in the aura of your guiding light."

Surely the things they were doing together were profane, a sinful betrayal for which they would both pay dearly sooner or later. Yet Muraki made them sound like holy sacraments.

"What use is my Wood energy to you? What do you want with it? You don't strike me as the gardening type. You depend on Metal energy. It's not as if Wood nourishes Metal energy..."

An ominous thought struck Tsuzuki: _If anything, it's Metal that cuts down Wood._

"True," Muraki agreed. "But I don't do this for myself. I do this for you."

Tsuzuki flexed his ankle in the water restlessly. "I already use Fire and Earth energy for my shinigami powers. That's more than enough. This Wood energy...it's like nothing I've worked with before. I only have to touch a twig, and it grows like crazy! If I keep it inside me, I begin sprouting feathers! What kind of power is this?!"

"Don't be afraid." Muraki's voice was soothing and melodic. "Moments of clumsiness are to be expected as you learn to handle your new talents. You've become so accustomed to the stasis of Meifu that you've forgotten how to deal with your transformation. But once you realise your full potential, nothing will hold you back from ascension." The false eye glowed softly.

"Ascend where?" Tsuzuki demanded. "I don't need wings to levitate. I can do that on my own."

"Merely a conjurer's trick approved by Enma, one he can rescind at his whim. Perhaps this is what he intended all along: to make you forget your sealed power by bequeathing you rationed portions of his own." The light winked out as Muraki closed his eyes. "But your hunger cannot be denied any longer. The once-loyal guard dog has tasted the blood of the flock. The dormant wolf is stirring within him."

The incongruity of the metaphor made Tsuzuki smile in spite of himself. "You make a poor sheep, and I'm a lousy wolf."

Muraki twitched one shoulder in a careless shrug. "In any case, there can be no going back. Your visitations undermine Enma's authority and threaten the foundations of Meifu. Surely you realise this."

Tsuzuki was silent for a long moment. The personal ramifications of his actions within the Shoukanka troubled him more than the repercussions he might face from EnmaDaiOh. In his lowly position, he posed no serious threat to the JuOhCho hierarchy. Apart from the occasional act of shikigami-induced destruction to EnmaCho property anyway.

"JuOhCho has its hands full keeping track of the regular human souls summoned for judgement. But that's one thing we don't have to worry about, because you're not one of them." Tsuzuki's voice was flat. "If you were merely a human, you wouldn't be able to bathe in these waters."

Muraki's eyes opened. "What do you mean? You removed the toxic compounds with your charmed stone."

"But I did nothing about the temperature." Tsuzuki lifted both feet out of the water. "See for yourself."

Both his feet were a mottled pink-red colour in the moonlight, the skin wrinkled and peeling. There was a line of demarcation at mid-calf level, above which was normal-looking skin.

Muraki stared, astonished. "Scald burns? But how?"

Tsuzuki's skin was returning to normal - a legacy of his rapid healing powers. "The temperature of this spring is about 60 degrees Celsius - hot enough to burn skin after several seconds of exposure." He swung his damp feet back on safe ground, crossed his legs, then glanced at his watch. "You've been in there for at least five minutes. You don't have a single burn mark on you. Tell me why."

Muraki looked down at himself with wonder. He lifted his arms to reveal pale unblemished skin. He began moving his hands over his entire body, hastily checking himself for any signs of injury. He was genuinely stunned - unable to believe the body he'd long-despised had achieved such an incredible feat.

Tsuzuki felt a pang of sympathy. Confronted with his own transformation, Muraki's customary arrogance had deserted him. Suddenly he looked as unsure of himself as any ordinary man.

"You had no idea, huh? Metal can protect and preserve those who are blessed by it - or cursed, as the case may be. You've used Metal energy yet again - but this time you weren't even aware of it. Do you know what this means, Muraki?"

Muraki's head snapped up - he'd been too preoccupied in examining himself.

"Three times I've tested you. Three times you've called on Metal energy to the own detriment of your corporeal form. Your pallor, your exhaustion each time you use your powers - isn't it obvious? This magic uses up the elemental metal within your body - the minerals you need to survive! You told me you wished you could relinquish your humanity, right? Well, you're getting your wish right now! And for what? You're no Man of Steel - you're just a...a heartless Tin Man!"

"Heartless?" It was a deep low drawl ending in a sibilant hiss. Muraki came forward, proffering his wrist. "If only it were true. Take my pulse, and feel for yourself."

Tsuzuki backed away, sensing imminent danger. "I've already seen it with my own eyes. I was dumb enough to transfer my unfulfilled dreams onto you. I wanted you to regain the one thing I could never have. But it's no use. Within your soul - where it matters most - you've turned your back on your humanity. And now your body is changing over as well!"

"What choice did I have? Was it not you who stabbed me with the scalpel? Was it not you who tried to incinerate me in the Fire Snake's black flames?"

"I had no choice! You were trying to hack my head off!"

"You wanted to die. I was willing to grant you your wish. But then we know what happened: your true nature awoke, and with it your rampant bloodlust." Seething anger shook Muraki's low voice. "I did what was necessary to survive! Your actions made me what I am today! Would you rather I be a mortal plaything for you to maim and annihilate at your whim?" He began to wade out of the spring.

Tsuzuki scrambled to his feet. "Stay there! I never said you could come out!"

Muraki halted. "What for? So I can rediscover my humanity and be poached alive? That's what you're hoping to see, ne?"

"That's not the reason! I'm thinking of your energy levels! Someone has to, dammit!"

Muraki's laugh was ugly. "Perhaps you'd find my flesh more palatable if it were cooked. How would you like me? Rare, medium, well done?" He turned around and waded back into the middle of the spring. The water reached up to his shoulders. "If this is the only way you will accept the communion of my flesh, then I will obey."

"Muraki, you wouldn't! I never said that!"

"I shall give you what you desire, for I am yours." Muraki pressed his hands before his lips, his gaze firmly fixed on Tsuzuki's ashen face.

"No!! Listen to me, Muraki! That's not what I desire, you--"

Muraki squeezed his eyes shut.

"Muraki! Don't be ridiculous!" Tsuzuki stumbled back to the water's edge. "Scalding yourself won't make a difference! You're not tricking me into this crazy communion of yours!"

Muraki wasn't serious. This was a fake challenge designed to manipulate him again. Emotional blackmail, nothing more. He wasn't going to fall for it again. Muraki sought immortality above all. Why would he let go of his powers and risk serious injury to prove a point? Cutting a hand with broken glass was one thing, but...

_In his entire state, he was bereft of the Light. It was necessary for him to cast his eye away so he may see._

Fear gripped Tsuzuki. His heart thudded into overdrive.

_Muraki wouldn't dare..._

Ripples formed over the water's surface, fragmenting the reflected moonlight. Muraki's long fingers were trembling violently.

_Dammit, he would!_

Tsuzuki leapt forward. He suspended himself over the spring for a fraction of a second, then dive-bombed straight into the spring. Water splashed everywhere, drenching Muraki in the process. But he remained where he was, still as a statue apart from his trembling hands.

Tsuzuki seized him by the waist and tried to levitate the two of them up. Muraki did not resist. Neither did he cooperate - he was little better than a dead weight.

"Hold on! Hold on to me, dammit!"

Damp flesh slid through Tsuzuki's gloved hands, making it impossible to get a good grip.

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki's voice was hoarse, near-hysterical. "Muraki, please!" He shook him by the shoulders. "Help me! Help me get you up!!"

Without a word, Muraki clamped his arms around Tsuzuki in a fierce hug, and buried his face in the crook of Tsuzuki's shoulder. His nails dug through the cloth of Tsuzuki's shirt to embed themselves in his back.

Tsuzuki hissed, but it wasn't important. He focused his energy on levitating them up. Slowly they rose out of the water, dripping wet, and landed near the campfire.

Muraki's embrace became tighter. A fine tremor shook his entire body. "I am...yours." Muffled against Tsuzuki's shoulder, the words were little more than a feeble plea. "No one else...only yours."

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki patted Muraki's back, an awkward attempt at reassurance. "Shhh. It's all right now. You're safe now."

Muraki pulled away a little to look at him, his eyes glazed and overbright. "I felt nothing - no heat, no pain. This is not healing or regeneration. This...I don't understand..."

"Your body is acquiring some magical Metallic properties. Just as metal can withstand high heat, so your body does the same. This is a side-effect of increasing your spiritual energy." Tsuzuki regarded him sadly. "You're getting your wish, Muraki. Your weak human body is no more. You're becoming stronger. The question is how long it can last."

Muraki blinked. "How can I be strong when I depend on you to nourish me? Without you I'm nothing!"

A pained expression crossed Tsuzuki's face. "That's not true. Don't say such things."

Muraki desperately nuzzled Tsuzuki's neck. His warm breath tickled Tsuzuki's throat. "What does it matter what I am?" he growled. "Human, demon...these labels are meaningless. I am yours. You must look after me."

Muraki's grip around him was suffocating. "Muraki...take it easy..."

"Fail in your duty of care, and you shall face the consequences." He nipped Tsuzuki's ear lobe hard.

"Dammit!" Tsuzuki pushed him away. "Then let me help you!" He picked up his trenchcoat and draped it over Muraki's shoulders. "Here, sit down next to the fire. You're shivering. You need to get warm. I'll make a bigger fire for you."

Grudgingly Muraki seated himself on a low rock, the coat clutched around him.

Tsuzuki removed his wet gloves and placed them on a rock to dry. He scrounged around for twigs and branches and quickly tossed them in the fire as he found them. He didn't want to hold them too long and release more Wood energy, for he dreaded the idea of worsening the state of entropy in the world. The flames leapt up, eager to consume the extra fuel.

"There, that should do it. Is that warm enough?"

Muraki's head was lowered, his shoulders hunched. With his silver hair dripping wet, he looked a forlorn figure. "It's good enough," he replied quietly.

Tsuzuki knelt down in front of him. "Now let's take a look at you. How badly have you hurt yourself this time?"

Muraki noticed Tsuzuki's sodden clothes for the first time. "You're wet."

"I wonder who's to blame for that," Tsuzuki retorted. "Never mind. Show me where you've scalded yourself."

Muraki's visible eye roved over Tsuzuki's wet shirt. It clung to the contours of his torso, leaving little to the imagination. "Take off your clothes, then we can warm each other up."

"Muraki! What about your scald burns?"

In one smooth movement the trenchcoat slid to the ground. "I was unharmed. My attempt to revoke my Metal energy failed."

His skin was pale and smooth. The only visible mark was the jagged scar across his abdomen. Between his legs, his cock stood erect - pointing straight at Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki stared. He remembered the feel of it gliding past his lips, the taste of it against his tongue. All he had to do was reach forward, and he'd be able to savour the taste once more...

"I...I see." It took Tsuzuki several flustered seconds to regain his train of thought. "So you were playing another trick on me. Why am I not surprised?" He began to stand up.

"It was no trick." Muraki grabbed Tsuzuki's hand. "If I knew how to revoke my power, I would have done it. I would have gladly burned myself in that spring - anything to make my body more pleasing in your sight."

"I-it's all right. I..." Tsuzuki watched in amazement as Muraki began to press urgent kisses against the back of his hand.

"I disobeyed you...my command of my abilities is poor..."

The words filled Tsuzuki with unease. "There's no need to apologise."

"Please have mercy on me...for not being a normal human..."

A pained look crossed Tsuzuki's face. "Stop it! I don't want you grovelling before me like a servant!"

Muraki's obsequious manner vanished. Anger lit his predatory eyes. "Then what do you want? Do you even know that much, I wonder?"

"I'm not a sadist! I never meant to hurt you or humiliate you!" He began pacing around Muraki, his arms held protectively around himself. "I just wanted to look for some sign that you were willing to give up your supernatural powers...and go back to being a normal human again."

"A normal human?" Muraki jeered. "You do realise, Tsuzuki-san, that if I were a normal human, I wouldn't be in a position to debate this tedious issue over and over again with you. I would've long been riddled with bullets thanks to the secret police, crushed by the jaws of your Earth shikigami - not to mention being boiled alive in the hot springs of Jigoku."

"I know, I know!" Water dripped from his sodden clothes, but he didn't care. "You've proven long ago you were no normal human."

"I thought you were testing my ability to survive, not my propensity to die." Muraki sounded most aggrieved. "If I'd known--"

"Don't you understand?" Tsuzuki whirled to face him, inadvertently spraying Muraki with droplets. "These powers...they come at a price! Great powers always do. They affect you physically, mentally - in unpredictable ways beyond your control. Usually for the worse." He picked up the coat and slung it over Muraki's shoulders again. "Wielding magical energy is like an addiction. It feels exhilarating at first, but over time you start to want more. Your desire for more starts to take over your whole existence. That's exactly what's happening to you."

"The benefits more than make up for it. I regret nothing." Muraki let the coat slide off again.

"Are you sure? You saw for yourself how these powers can work in ways beyond your control." Tsuzuki picked up the coat again and flung it over Muraki's exposed lap. "It becomes a parasite inside you, actively cannibalising your body to keep itself alive. This magic will ultimately shorten your life, not extend it."

Muraki lifted the collar to his face and inhaled the scent. "Not as long as you feed me, Tsuzuki-san. With your essence, I will flourish and grow."

"You presume a great deal." Pacing restlessly, Tsuzuki began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Not at all." Muraki turned to watch him. "I only meant to give praise to your bountiful generosity. I await the day that you will reveal your true glory and deliver your followers from the darkness."

Tsuzuki stopped in front of him, shirt completely unbuttoned, hands placed on his hips. "You're no follower, Muraki. You don't follow me - you pursue me. You remain under a covenant to another - the one who sent you here."

Muraki's smile was enigmatic. "His faces are many, yet he is but one."

"Who placed the shadow spell over your heart?" Tsuzuki began pacing around again. "The one with whom you made your covenant? Someone else? I don't suppose you'd care to enlighten me."

"It is a holy name imbued with greatness. I am unworthy to utter it aloud."

From behind, Tsuzuki leaned close to Muraki's ear. "Then whisper it. I'll make it worth your while. I'll feed you over and over until you're replete beyond measure. You need never go hungry again."

Apart from a lifted brow, Muraki remained facing straight ahead. "The volume of my voice is irrelevant. Uttering the name is an act of blasphemy. You either jest out of ignorance...or you test me yet again."

Tsuzuki walked around to face him. "Admit it, Muraki. Your claim to be mine is a farce. Someone else already has prior claim on your loyalty."

"So are you a jealous god, Tsuzuki-san? Are you demanding an exclusive relationship?"

Taken aback, Tsuzuki froze. "No." He'd honestly never thought that far. "I don't believe in imposing unrealistic conditions." He took off his shirt and wrung it dry. "It's useless to ask you to go against your intrinsic nature."

Seated on the rock, Muraki absorbed this in watchful silence.

Tsuzuki laid the shirt on a rock near the fire, then wiped his hands on his trousers. After ensuring the velvet gloves were dry, he slid them back on. "As master of twelve shikigami, I know that a shikigami cannot serve two masters well. So I won't take on one who is under contract to another. I won't accept one who has been tainted by a spell cast by someone else." He cast a pointed look Muraki's way. "The ones who enter into a contract with me serve no other except me."

"So they are expected to have eyes for you alone, while you may spread your attentions among many." Muraki ruffled his damp hair with one hand, snickering to himself. "You sound like you're running a harem. Truly you are a hypocrite."

"It's not like that. I expect undivided loyalty, not slavish devotion. The shikigami who serve me do so of their own free will. They long to return to this world and display their power. They want to be worshipped and invoked by people the way they were in the old days. But in the modern world, people have forgotten them in their rush to embrace science and technology." Tsuzuki sat down on a rock beside Muraki, hands interlaced together. "That's the real reason why I'm their master. I'm the only one who prays to them, the only one who grants them the devotion and honour they crave. It's not about my power or essence or some mysterious light. They want to be revered and remembered, that's all."

"Humans are fools." Muraki stared into the fire. "Science is not a cure-all for human pain and suffering. Humanity's greatest delusion is its belief that human intelligence holds the key to fixing all the ills in the world."

Tsuzuki looked up, surprised. "I suppose you know that from experience."

"Indeed." Muraki's voice held no irony, only dull weariness.

Tsuzuki found his eyes drawn to Muraki's profile: the aquiline nose, the thin lips and pointed chin. Without his metal-rimmed glasses, his features appeared more naked and emotionally revealing. The flickering glow of the flames revealed the lines fanning out from the corner of one eye - signs of age that made Tsuzuki sad. His own face, forever young, would remain a clean slate. But Muraki's face was etched by half a lifetime of bitter human experience.

Had the woman with the body of a girl coaxed a smile from that frowning mouth? Had the brothel owner made those narrowed eyes crinkled with laughter?

Tsuzuki felt a sickening ache lodge within his stomach at the thought.

"Is it an onerous task to worship so many shikigami?" Muraki asked quietly.

"No, not at all." No one had ever asked him such a question before. "It's not a hardship for me." He bit his lip, thinking of how to explain it. "When I summon them, I enter into a kind of meditative trance. I become one with them. I share in their exhilaration and power. I feel I'm a part of something far greater than myself. For a brief moment, I can even let go of my misgivings about working as a God of Death."

Muraki was silent. Hidden in the folds of the coat, his hands balled into fists.

"It's an ecstatic experience, a joy beyond words. Worshipping them is a wonderful privilege. They lift my spirits and gladden my heart." He smiled to himself. "When they dance for me, my soul dances, too."

Abruptly Muraki rose to his feet. "I can make you feel the same way."

"Huh? Muraki, sit down--"

Muraki cast the coat from him. It fell to the ground, fanning out to cover an area the size of a double bed. He knelt on the coat and sat on his heels facing Tsuzuki, his back to the fire. His cock remained erect, flush against his abdomen. "Like this, Tsuzuki-san?"

"Cover yourself up! Where's your sense of modesty?"

"Are you ashamed to gaze upon your shikigami when you summon them?"

"No, but--"

"Then do not be ashamed to gaze upon me. Like them, I am yours." Muraki spead his arms out, an eloquent gesture of offering.

In his position of subservience, Muraki was exposed and naked...and beautiful beyond words. Yet his expression was cool, shuttered - the exact opposite. His chest was proud, his chin lifted to meet Tsuzuki's gaze. His demeanour was at once courtship and challenge, humility and pride - a visual contradiction that encapsulated Muraki's duplicitous character.

"No." With an effort of superhuman will, Tsuzuki collected himself. "You're not mine. You've got other loyalties, other ties: the friends who still love you, the one who devised your covenant..." A sweet ache was stirring within the pit of his abdomen. "You can't compare yourself to a shikigami."

"True. In some ways I am superior. I can make your body dance."

Tsuzuki flushed. Trapped within the confines of his trousers, his cock was coming to life. "Muraki...my body's danced enough times. I don't want to do that anymore. Think of yourself - you're wasting your energy!"

"Feed me and I will be whole once more. You are manna from heaven, the sweetest fruit--"

"No more feeding, dammit! I want you to..."

"You are the source of light that brings life into the world--"

"Listen! You..." Tsuzuki's features were scrunched up, as if the words were too painful to speak aloud. "You've got to take a vow of celibacy!"

Muraki's lips froze midway through his litany of praise. "What?"

"Celibacy is the only answer - for both of us! From now on, we both need to use our willpower and stop having sex!" Tsuzuki slapped his hand against his thigh for emphasis. "Abstinence is the only way to stop things getting out of control!"

Muraki was stunned. "Why?" His erection slumped precariously to one side.

"Well...it's been practised by holy men throughout the ages, right? They gave up sex to achieve a greater spiritual awareness. Their goal was enlightenment - a way to achieve union with the divine. If it's good enough for them, then it's good enough for you!"

Muraki's brow almost reached his hairline. His visible eye was wide with bemusement.

Tsuzuki leaned forward, warming to this topic. "You're after the same thing too...kind of. If you could cultivate an inner fortitude like the holy men, perhaps you can be at peace with the world instead of battling against it."

"Celibacy," Muraki repeated. He took a slow breath in, then out - making a visible effort to collect himself. "Tsuzuki-san, I assure you I have been a celibate man for many years. Throughout my days at university, and later when I embarked on my surgical training, I devoted myself fully to my vocation. I gave up my leisure time, I eschewed personal relationships. I willingly made many sacrifices in order to be the best surgeon I could possibly be." His lips twisted. "All for nothing. I put my faith in surgery, and it proved to be a false god." He closed his eyes and placed his hands together in prayer. "This time I have chosen one that is true. He is my refuge and fortress. I will look up to him for guidance. In him I will trust."

"I'm nothing like that!" Tsuzuki got down on his hands and knees - he didn't want Muraki looking up at him, literally or metaphorically. "Muraki! Open your eyes when I'm talking to you."

Muraki obeyed. When he saw Tsuzuki before him, a beatific smile lit his face. "You shall cover me with your feathers. Under your wings I will take refuge."

"No!" Tsuzuki hastily sat back on his heels. "No more wings! That's why we're both taking a vow of celibacy!" Tsuzuki clenched his fist in determination. "We can be like a self-help group for sex addicts! If we work together, I know we can do it!"

"A self-help group?" Muraki eyed him as though he were a lunatic before swiftly lowering his gaze. "Then how am I to worship you?" He composed himself into a humble penitent awaiting the judgement of the priest. "I am yours. I intend to follow your will and obey your word. But how am I to feed?"

"It's not the end of the world!" Tsuzuki cajoled. "You can still feed! I have a great idea. I'll collect my, uh, essence in a bottle, and then you can take a sip when you're feeling low. That's much more convenient, right? You can save it, maybe keep it in the fridge--"

"Like milk?" Muraki suggested, deadpan.

"What this means is that you won't have to go hungry waiting for me. And best of all, you won't risk wasting your energy either." Tsuzuki grinned, elated at his own genius. "It's so obvious! Why didn't I think of this sooner?"

"Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki's gaze remained lowered, concealed by silver hair. "Your concern for my welfare is...deeply touching. Your magnanimity leaves me...speechless." The muscles of his jaw clenched spasmodically. "Your proposed solution is...truly remarkable for its..." Suddenly he buried his face in his hands. He began emitting a strange animalistic sound: a high-pitched whine followed by a rumbling growl.

"Muraki?" Alarmed, Tsuzuki moved to his side. "Is something wrong?"

Slowly Muraki lifted his head. "No. What makes you think that?" He eyed Tsuzuki with active loathing. "You are testing me yet again, ne? You devise these trials to drive me to breaking point!"

"No! This isn't a test! I'm serious about helping you. I honestly believe this compromise is the best solution." He retreated when he noticed Muraki's cock was at full attention.

"Forgive me." But Muraki didn't sound apologetic. "My body longs to worship yours. I cannot help the way it reacts to your nearness." Muraki shifted his hips so Tsuzuki could assess this reaction for himself. "It remembers how your body arched and writhed in pleasure against mine each night, and so--"

"Enough!" Tsuzuki tried to block out the images summoned by Muraki's words, and failed horribly. "You don't have to explain! I can see for myself!"

"Then you must realise that your 'solution' is nothing of the sort!" Muraki clenched his jaw, trying his best to rein in his temper. "My desire to honour and worship you is as strong as my need to feed from you. If I do not worship you, your body will no longer dance. Is that what you truly want? You will surely suffer, and I shall suffer too."

There was an insidious sort of logic in Muraki's reasoning. "I don't want you to suffer...but I don't need to be worshipped, really. I mean, I come - er, dance - when you feed from me already..." Tsuzuki's words trailed off. Muraki was closing in on him. The muscles of his shoulders and arms glowed in the firelight.

"But it's not quite the same as having me fuck you, ne?" Muraki's words were little more than a seductive drawl. "Holding you tight while I fill your trembling body over and over until you're about to explode..."

The warmth and scent of Muraki's body surrounded Tsuzuki like a wonderful incense, making him dizzy with the promise of another forbidden sexual encounter. His muscles were becoming lethargic and heavy. His erection strained against the fly of his trousers, prepared for action.

Tsuzuki splayed his gloved hands against Muraki's chest. "Keep back, Muraki." It was little more than a harsh whisper. "I'm doing this for you."

Muraki shivered and closed his eyes. "I appreciate what you're doing with your hands much, much more."

Tsuzuki looked down. His palms were spread over Muraki's nipples. Through the velvet material, Tsuzuki felt both of them become pebble-hard nubs. Belatedly he realised he should be removing his hands...but somehow his gaze became fascinated by the contrast of violet velvet against pale flesh.

"You..." Tsuzuki cleared his throat. "You're sensitive here."

"So I am." Muraki's lips hovered a couple of inches from Tsuzuki. His head was tilted slightly so their noses wouldn't collide.

"Muraki, don't."

"I'm not touching you, am I?" Muraki let his breath lightly brush Tsuzuki's brow and cheek. "You have such exquisite bone structure: high forehead and cheekbones, deep-set eyes, perfect uptilted nose." He sighed, and his breath fell along Tsuzuki's lips. "No cosmetic surgeon could improve on your beauty."

Tsuzuki's lips tingled and ached, and they hadn't even touched Muraki's mouth yet. He knew he had to move away, but he feared the slightest movement would betray the terrible desire kindling within him. Already his hands, splayed against Muraki's chest, were completely immobile - caught between the urge to push him away and the desire to caress every inch of his nude body.

Muraki knew, of course. Muraki could read him like a book.

Yet he kept his hands to himself. He simply regarded Tsuzuki for a long moment, drinking in his features with the same transfixed expression he'd shown at their very first meeting.

No one else ever looked at him like this. This strange mix of wonder and longing in Muraki's eyes that could mesmerise him with such ease. If Tsuzuki didn't know better, he might have mistaken it for tenderness...even adoration.

"Fool." Muraki's tone was gentle. "You've been so busy giving devotion to others that you've forgotten how to accept it yourself, ne? But all is not lost. That's why I'm here: to remind you of what you've forgotten, and help cast light on what was dark." He lowered his head until their lips were mere inches apart.

Tsuzuki shut his eyes. This was wrong. He was a lowly shinigami, a reaper of souls - little more than an assassin for hire. He didn't deserve to be adored by anyone.

"Do not turn me away in my hour of need. If I'm to be forbidden to lay a hand on you, then please do not withhold your touch from me." Muraki's voice was a silken whisper. "Even celibate men are permitted kisses, ne?"

Violet velvet slowly skimmed up Muraki's chest, over his broad shoulders to encircle his neck.

Muraki's triumphant chuckle was easily stifled by the insistent pressure of Tsuzuki's questing lips.

* * *

Helicopters hovered overhead. Their spotlights skittered over the cracked section of the Nagasaki expressway. The whup-whup of the propellers created swirling clouds of grit and dust. 

On the ground, the cat squinted its eyes shut against the mini-duststorm. It scrambled out from behind its shelter. "Humans are coming!" it yowled. It leapt over cracks and dodged fragments of concrete and bitumen towards Genbu, who was trudging several hundred metres ahead.

"Humans," Genbu rasped. He continued his slow steady pace, crushing bitumen as he went. "The humans can wait. My work is not finished." There were many more bitumen pieces to be flattened underfoot. Mounds of rubble lined each side of the road, neatly swept in rows with flicks of his long tail.

"Do you want to be seen?" the cat cried. "Remember how humans react when they lay eyes on our true forms!" It stopped, gasping for breath. The feline vessel it occupied possessed nimble reflexes and great flexibility, but poor physical endurance.

"My obligations are to the Earth and my master," Genbu intoned. "Let the humans view me at work. Let them be reminded of the time when we spirits roamed the earth and struck fear and awe in their hearts."

Wind gusts stirred the peaks of the rubble mounds flanking the black snake-tortoise. Debris began to tumble down. Airborne dust filled the air.

Golden reptilian eyes flashed. "You dare disrupt my efforts!" His serpentine neck telescoped out from his carapace and coiled around in mid-air. "Another mechanical insect fouling the Earth. Human folly knows no bounds."

The cat huddled in a ball, eyes tightly shut. Directly beneath the helicopter, it was helpless against the flying dust.

Genbu watched the spotlight flit over his tail, then slow to inspect the spiked plates of his shiny carapace. Helpfully he angled his neck so the spotlight fell on his horned-studded head. When he was sure they could see him, he slowly rose up towards the copter, swaying side to side like a dancing cobra, jaws wide.

The horrified crew sent the helicopter veering away at a precipitous angle. Quickly righting itself, it swerved back the way it had come.

Genbu didn't bother to give chase. He chose to let out a rumbling roar to hurry them along.

Covered in grit and dust, the cat lifted its head. "Their fear will pass. They will return soon enough, and more will come after them bearing offensive weapons, not offerings in your name." It licked its paws, and began cleaning itself. "The world has changed much since the days you wandered the earth."

The snake-tortoise eyed the cat with slitted eyes. "And not for the better. My return is indeed long overdue." He turned back and resumed flattening the rubble at his feet. "When I have finished, we shall see how your master is faring with mine."

* * *

Muraki made a good point. A vow of celibacy didn't exclude kissing. While they sat on Tsuzuki's outspread coat, both men were busy taking advantage of this convenient loophole. 

For once, Muraki's hands weren't yanking off his clothes or roaming all over his body. In deference to Tsuzuki, he kept his hands firmly on his thighs. The time for talking was over. Muraki was focusing his persuasive powers in using his skilled lips to change Tsuzuki's mind.

And from Tsuzuki's eager response, he was doing a very good job.

With his gloved hand stroking the nape of Muraki's neck, Tsuzuki eagerly accepted the light pressure of Muraki's mouth. Delicate flicks of his tongue interspersed with tantalising caresses left Tsuzuki yearning for more. He began gliding his tongue along the length of Muraki's, demonstrating how he wanted it done. He guided the tilt of Muraki's jaw as he explored Muraki's mouth more intimately, accidentally bumping their noses in his enthusiasm.

Muraki's control was waning. His chest rose and fell, and his breath gusted against Tsuzuki's cheek.

Finally he broke the kiss. "You told me...not to touch you. I intend...to prove myself worthy..." His eyes were closed, his breathing erratic. "But you make it so hard..."

Tsuzuki pulled him back. "Kiss me properly." He nipped Muraki's chin. "Kiss me the way you normally do."

"Then discard this ridiculous celibacy idea. I, for one, need more than kisses."

Between them, Muraki's neglected cock pointed up, silently pleading for attention.

Tsuzuki swallowed. The scent tempted him, beckoning him closer. The urge to take it in his mouth was a powerful one - an urge he had to deny. "I...I'm sorry, Muraki. We have to abstain from sex--"

"But the ache grows unbearable." Muraki nuzzled Tsuzuki's forehead. "I must have your healing touch."

Reluctantly Tsuzuki clasped the shaft of Muraki's cock. Through the velvet he could feel it, warm and alive, twitching at his touch. He stroked it tentatively, and felt it swell against his palm.

Muraki sighed. "Mmm...yes." He kissed Tsuzuki properly as reward. "Now pump me the way I taught you. Let's see how well you memorised my earlier lesson."

Tsuzuki's heavy-lidded gaze was on Muraki's mouth. "I'm sorry." Using his thumb, he pressed firmly over the sensitive crown.

Muraki buckled over in agony. His forehead hit Tsuzuki's shoulder. His hands shot out and unerringly wrapped themselves around Tsuzuki's throat. "You..." Between clenched teeth, he struggled to find words. "Tsuzuki-san! You want...to make me impotent?"

"Too much sex...bad for you," Tsuzuki rasped, yet his grip remained firm. Muraki's erection was deflating in his hand.

Muraki bared his teeth in a pain-wracked snarl. His nails dug into Tsuzuki's throat.

Even with the stranglehold over his windpipe, Tsuzuki refused to back down. "You must...retain your energy..."

"You expect me to obey...when you crush me like some worm?"

Tsuzuki made a stifled wheezing sound. "You're a lot...bigger..."

"Tsuzuki-san! This is no time for flippant flattery!"

Taking pity on him, Tsuzuki eased his grip.

Muraki let out a sigh of relief. Slowly he did the same with Tsuzuki's throat. As he withdrew his hands, he lacerated the flesh with his nails to leave shallow cuts.

Tsuzuki didn't wince. "You did that on purpose."

Muraki licked the blood from his nails. "That's what you get when you toy with sharp metal objects." He closed his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration.

The fly of Tsuzuki's trousers ripped open. The button flew off, and the entire fabric tore itself apart. Tsuzuki suddenly found himself sitting in a pile of rags, and dressed in nothing more than his underpants.

"Shit! How did you--"

"I didn't touch you. I acted within the terms of your command." Muraki smiled sweetly. "It was getting a little tight there, ne? I thought it was time to give you the room you needed." He eyed the bulge in Tsuzuki's underpants with blatant appreciation.

Tsuzuki picked up what was left of the metal zipper. "More evidence of your Metal mastery."

Muraki idly brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "Merely an opening gambit."

Tsuzuki tossed the zipper down. It dislodged the ragpile, and sent a small object rolling towards Muraki. Tsuzuki seized it. Muraki placed his hand over his before he could pick it up.

"What was that?" Muraki asked pleasantly.

Tsuzuki looked up. Muraki's features were a blur - his face was so close they were virtually facing each other nose-to-nose. "Nothing important."

"My dear Tsuzuki-san, how is it that you can be so rich in spiritual energy yet such a hopeless liar?"

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. "I didn't want to scare you." He tried to pull his hand free. Muraki's grip over his gloved hand was like steel manacles. "It's lubricant from your bedroom."

Muraki's features lit up with pleasure. "Really? What admirable foresight."

"It wouldn't have been fair to leave it behind. I know it's been a while for you, so I'll do my best to prepare you well."

"Prepare _me_?" Muraki's expression darkened ominously.

Tsuzuki held the jar palm-up in his hand. "Of course." He did his best to project a determined optimism. "It's my turn to make you dance, Muraki."

Muraki sat up straight, his nostrils flaring in annoyance. "I'm not doing it."

Tsuzuki studied the jar in his hands. "I've wanted to do it to you from the very beginning. You know that first night we shared together? While you lay unconscious beneath me, I saw how beautiful you were. I dreamed of taking you then and there."

"I'm not doing it."

Tsuzuki turned the jar over and over in his hands, as if he could unlock the secrets to the universe by contemplating it. "But I didn't want to take advantage of you. I wanted you to accept me willingly, of your own accord. I wanted you to experience how wonderful it can be when you open up to others instead of barricading yourself--"

"I'm not doing it." Louder, and edged with growing impatience.

"I see." Tsuzuki's hands became still. His downbent gaze remained on the small jar. "Why is it that you're the only one who gets to 'worship' me with your body? Why can't I honour you in the same way? My desires are no different. Inside, I burn with the longing to make you dance--"

"Never! I told you! I'm not doing it - not even for you! I was defiled - treated like a plaything!" Muraki's voice throbbed with raw emotion. "I vowed never to let it happen again!"

Tsuzuki was silent for a long moment. "Defiled..." he finally murmured, head still bowed. He managed a wry smile. "Then what about 'dancing'? What about 'worship'?"

Caught off-guard, Muraki blinked. "What?"

"That's your real opinion of sex, isn't it?" There was a suspicious brightness in Tsuzuki's eyes. "To you, sex is about using others, because that's all you know. All this time we were together, you were defiling me, using me - repeating the same kind of relationship you had with your half-brother."

"You speak out of ignorance! Don't you dare compare me to him!"

"Why not? How are you any better? You did exactly the same thing to Hisoka!" He jabbed Muraki in the chest with one finger. "It's the reason you frequent prostitutes yet refuse to lay a finger on that girl you've adored all your life! You didn't want to defile her - the only person you've really cared for, right?"

Muraki blinked. His seething anger evaporated, leaving behind a look of brooding contemplation.

"But it's fine to do it with me heaps of times because I'm nothing to you!" Tsuzuki threw his head back, laughing. "All your talk about 'worshipping me' and 'making me dance' - what a load of bullshit! Just like that talk about being mine and needing to feed--"

"Is the truth," Muraki interjected quietly. "I am yours."

Tsuzuki's near-hysterical laughter died in his throat, leaving behind a look of terrible sadness. "You're not mine, Muraki, not like my shikigami." He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand. "You come because you're dependent on me, but they answer my prayers of their own free will. To be their master, I had to challenge each of them individually for the right to be their master and submit to a test. Only by passing their test would they agree to accept my authority."

Tsuzuki still remembered the twelve tests his shikigami had given him, from the most trivial to the most dangerous: tests of skill as well as character. They served a dual purpose. For the shikigami, the test was a method of determining whether the challenger was worthy of their favour. As for the challenger, the test was a yardstick by which they could assess their ability to fulfil the position of a competent master.

A little elderly man in monk's robes had explained it, back when Tsuzuki was a lost greenhorn wandering through the mountainous forests of Gensoukai hunting for his first shikigami. Having stumbled on the monk's meditation spot, a small forest clearing, by accident, he had no idea he was in the company of one of the four great divine commanders.

_The test will put the doubts to rest. Pass, and know yourself to be suitable. Fail, and learn that it wasn't meant to be. There is no shame in either outcome, for when you undertake the challenge you gain valuable knowledge about yourself._

Facing him in the present, Muraki was thoughtful. "Is it so important to you that I accept your authority without question?"

A flicker of an idea crept into Tsuzuki's mind. If only there was some way he could prove himself worthy to Muraki...

"No, not really. What I'd really like is trust...but I know trust can't just be handed over. Trust has to be earned." Tsuzuki's fingers tightened around the jar of lubricant. "Muraki...I'd like to challenge you right here, right now. If I win, I'm allowed to claim you for my own. If I lose...then I'll never bring this up again."

"A challenge? What kind of challenge?"

"A test of some kind, involving some skill or quality you find admirable in others. If I can prove I've got it, then you'll agree to my terms." Tsuzuki opened the jar and placed it between them. "I've got the perfect one for us - a challenge of sexual endurance."

Muraki lifted one brow, obviously intrigued. "Please elaborate."

"We arouse each other using only hands and lips. The one who manages to hold back from orgasm the longest is the victor. No penetration permitted. No blowjobs either."

"I see." Muraki ran his fingers through his hair, grimacing to himself. "You want us to grope each other like school boys, ne?"

"Well...you don't trust me enough to let me fuck you. I refuse to drain you of your essence by sucking you off. So this is the only way we can challenge each other on an equal footing."

"Ridiculous." Muraki rubbed his forehead, as if he was on the verge of a splitting headache. "This entire idea is completely absurd."

Tsuzuki could feel hope slipping out of his grasp. "Let me prove myself to you, just this once. All I want is a fighting chance to win your respect." He blinked away the prickling heat from his eyes and lifted his head high, determined not to be shamed. "I'm not afraid to take you on. Are you afraid of me?"

Muraki's gaze was shuttered, revealing nothing. He studied Tsuzuki's face for a long moment, dispassionately noting the glimmer of tears, the wavering optimism. When Tsuzuki looked away, he reached out his hand to lift up Tsuzuki's jaw.

Surprised, Tsuzuki flinched from his touch.

"I may touch you as I please if I agree to this challenge?"

Wild hope flared in Tsuzuki's eyes. "You may."

"Well then..." Muraki took hold of his jaw. "Weep no more. Lovely as they are, there is no essence to be found in your beautiful tears." He leaned forward to lap at the wetness along Tsuzuki's eyelashes.

The gesture was part-comfort and part-affection - a small sign of accession to Tsuzuki's wish.

For Tsuzuki, it felt like the most miraculous of blessings. Maybe Muraki felt pity for him. Maybe Muraki was only indulging him in the hope of feeding from him. It didn't matter. This was his chance, and he was going to grab it tight with both hands.

And with it, Muraki. This living embodiment of mercurial Metal energy would belong to him by sunrise.

He pulled Muraki into his arms. He kissed Muraki as he meant to proceed, assertively staking his claim over that taunting mouth. His gloved hands stroked down the length of Muraki's body, caressing with gentleness the flesh he'd ruthlessly curbed minutes earlier.

Muraki twitched and bucked, and retaliated by pushing Tsuzuki to the covered ground. He claimed Tsuzuki's mouth in a frenzied kiss. Without looking, he dipped the fingers of one hand in the jar. With the other hand, he freed Tsuzuki from his underpants.

Tsuzuki kicked off the offending item of clothing, eagerly anticipating the feel of Muraki's flesh against his. "Remember the rules," he murmured. "No penetration. No blowjobs." He nipped at the ruby stud adorning Muraki's ear, and allowed it to clatter against his teeth. "The first one to breaks them loses the challenge."

Looming over him, Muraki grinned. "Are you so sure?" He wrapped oiled fingers around Tsuzuki's erection. "What if I arouse you to such a pitch of excitement...that you beg me to fuck you?" He squeezed the cock once, then slammed his oiled grip up and down along its length. "How can I be breaking the rules if I obey your command?"

Tsuzuki gasped for breath. He arched under the onslaught of sensation, unable to keep up with Muraki's fierce tempo. In a feeble attempt to shield himself, he lifted one knee. Muraki easily pushed it down, splaying Tsuzuki's legs wide apart for easier access. He tightened his fingers as Tsuzuki swelled in his hands, never once easing his merciless rhythm.

Tsuzuki bit his lip against a moan. It felt incredible. Why was he resisting these wonderful sensations? Did it matter why Muraki was doing this? To his body, trembling in Muraki's skilled hands, it made no difference. Pleasure was pleasure, pure and simple.

"I know exactly how to make you feel good," Muraki murmured. "I've memorised what you like, the way you respond when you're pleased, the wordless sounds you make in your throat when you want more..." His silver hair swung free, revealing both true and false eyes. His mismatched gaze glittered with the conceit of one who knew success was in his grasp. "Let yourself go. You know you want to. Let me make you dance."

Tsuzuki grasped the back of Muraki's head. "Shut up and kiss me."

Muraki gladly obliged. Tsuzuki took advantage of the proximity to pull Muraki against him, flesh against flesh. That hot heavy weight pressing down upon him, that pleasurable discomfort against his groin...it was exactly what he'd been waiting for. He wound his legs around Muraki's and began to undulate against him, rubbing their genitals together. His gloved hands moulded the long sweep of Muraki's spine, from the nape of his neck to the breadth of his shoulder blades, down the narrow waist with its thick bands of branching scars.

Muraki shivered. His growl was muffled against Tsuzuki's mouth.

Tsuzuki gently massaged the scars, trying to smooth them away with his velvet touch.

Muraki withdrew a little. "Not there...hypersensitive..."

"Don't be afraid." Using his legs as leverage, he rolled Muraki so they lay side by side. "I want you to know the pleasure of surrender." He sheathed Muraki's twitching cock within his velvet grip and stroked it in a long, fluid rhythm. "When you overcome your fear...you'll understand."

Muraki took hold of Tsuzuki's cock again. His gaze was hooded, unreadable. "I'm not afraid." With his other hand, he grasped Tsuzuki by the hip to hold him in place. "I'm just not interested." He resumed stroking Tsuzuki hard and fast. His vigorous motion stretched and squeezed the throbbing flesh over and over - an inversion of the thorough way he possessed Tsuzuki's body each night.

Tsuzuki panted through it, eyes shut. Muraki was too good. Fighting him was futile. Instead, he let the sensations wash over him, and focused his concentration on memorising Muraki's technique. Using his gloved hand, he started to replicate the same strokes and pacing over Muraki's throbbing erection. The buckles of the glove jingled in time with his movements.

"Not bad...for a novice." Muraki's voice was husky against his ear. "But you're closer. I can feel it. So much for vows of celibacy, ne?" He pressed his mouth along Tsuzuki's throat, his tongue circling the thudding pulse.

Tsuzuki arched his throat in blatant invitation. His gloved fingers became entangled in silver hair as he urged Muraki lower.

Muraki chuckled. "Now are you tempting me or offering guidance? If you want me to go down on you, just say the word..." He bit the juncture between Tsuzuki's neck and shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. "...and we can put this infantile challenge behind us."

"Never." Resting his damp forehead against Muraki's shoulder, Tsuzuki's sidelong glance sparkled with taunting mischief. "What's wrong, Muraki? Having trouble holding out?" His hand slid down Muraki's erection to cup the testicles beneath, tightening and swelling under the strain. "You must be strong. You can't afford to waste a drop."

Muraki exhaled sharply - whether from amusement or discomfort it was impossible to say. "I don't intend to." He redoubled his own ministrations, milking Tsuzuki's cock in a frenzy of motion. "I'll offer it up to you...and watch your body writhe and rock in ecstatic gratitude." He inhaled. "The challenge is as good as over. Your essence is on its way. Such a heady aroma..." Muraki's words were becoming slurred in his excitement. "Mouth-watering...deliciously sweet..."

Tsuzuki shuddered. That voice of Muraki's was a potent weapon of seduction. When he used that deep husky register, the effect was as alluring as an intimate caress. He could feel his hips twist and thrust harder into Muraki's grip, his cock lengthen up towards Muraki's eager gaze. His hand trembled as he struggled to maintain his earlier rhythmic stroke along Muraki's erection. His entire body was turning traitor against him - it seemed intent only on transforming Muraki's words into reality.

Impatiently Muraki pushed away Tsuzuki's stroking hand. He lowered himself down Tsuzuki's body, his eyes hypnotised by the swollen prize he held. "Come for me!" His hot breath gusted over the head of Tsuzuki's cock, making it twitch further. "I must feed!"

Tsuzuki propped himself up on his elbows, chest heaving and dewed in perspiration. "You know...the rules of the challenge..."

"Silence!" Muraki snapped. "You persecute me with these trials for your own amusement! You upbraid me at every turn yet delight each time I stumble!" His eyes were that of a feral beast. "No wonder your acolytes have forsaken you! Your cruelty would test the faith of the most devoted servant!" His firm grip rapidly milked the oozing precome from Tsuzuki's cock.

Tsuzuki shook his head. "I never asked you...to come to me..."

"You didn't have to! I see it right now in your unnatural eyes - those same eyes that charmed me from the moment I saw you in my grandfather's photo! I sense it in the way you goad and taunt me, while secretly waiting for me to lose control and ravish you! And I feel it here - the part of you that cannot lie." He grasped Tsuzuki's cock by the root and rubbed his cheek against the shaft. He let the crown drift along his jaw, leaving a gleaming trail. "Tell me what you want."

Tsuzuki couldn't look away. All he had to do was thrust his hips, and his erection would be sliding past Muraki's lips, filling his mouth. An effective silencing technique, but an admission of surrender as well.

"Our challenge...still stands." Tsuzuki locked his thighs and knees in rigid extension, pressing his pelvis against the unyielding ground. This was one temptation he had to resist. "Break the rules...and I win."

"Why must I uphold them?" Muraki retorted. "If you lack the means to enforce the consequences, your rules are meaningless." He turned his head, teeth bared over the twitching flesh.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. He steeled himself for the worst.

"What are you doing playing the meek lamb? You think I can't see through that pathetic guise?" Muraki was enraged beyond all reason. "You insult me yet again! I don't want your restraint! I don't want your kindness! I would rather bear the brunt of your fury than be the object of your sanctimonious pity!"

"What the hell am I supposed to do? What do you expect--"

Muraki covered his teeth with his lips, opened his mouth wide, and swallowed Tsuzuki in one gulp. The tightening wet suction he applied around Tsuzuki's cock was answer enough.

Sheer ecstasy. Bone-melting pleasure so fiercely sweet it made Tsuzuki groan aloud. Within this vortex of sensation he was utterly lost. His hips bucked into Muraki's ravenous mouth. When Muraki tried to ease off, Tsuzuki seized him by the hair to prevent his escape.

"More...more..." He urged Muraki down again. "Don't stop."

Muraki made a muffled choking sound. He pushed one of Tsuzuki's knees up to his chest, then he swallowed Tsuzuki down once more.

Tsuzuki swore softly. He couldn't thrust in this position. All he could do was twist helplessly while Muraki drank from him like a crazed succubus.

There was no stopping Muraki from his feeding frenzy. He rolled the shaft within the confines of his mouth, pushing it along the inside of one cheek, then the other. He trapped the head of the cock against his palate, and milked the precome using rapid undulations of his tongue.

Tsuzuki groaned, chest heaving. So this was the dance Muraki spoke of - a deranged possession of his body and soul. But it wasn't what he wanted. Fucking Muraki's mouth wasn't enough anymore.

Muraki squeezed one of Tsuzuki's buttocks. Assured of his prize, he slid oiled fingers slid between the cheeks of Tsuzuki's ass.

Tsuzuki shook his head. "No, not that..."

Muraki slid them in without interrupting his focused oral assault. Tsuzuki shuddered wildly as his prostate was bombarded with a series of scintillating jolts. He lurched forward and kicked out. One of his hands clutched the coat, the other Muraki's head.

"Muraki...please..." His cock throbbed, his groin ached, his ass clenched around Muraki's fingers on each outward stroke. Every muscle was tensed up, waiting for that final stimulus to push him over the edge. Tsuzuki wasn't sure what he was pleading for - only that Muraki held the cure to this pleasure so intense it felt like torture.

Climax was brief and swift. A sharp pinnacle of ecstatic brilliance - followed by a sudden freefall back to earth. Tsuzuki found himself emptying everything in one sudden burst right down Muraki's gulping throat.

Slowly Muraki lifted his head. "Good...but not enough." He was wild-eyed, his hair dishevelled. "I must have more." He moved into a kneeling position and lifted both of Tsuzuki's knees onto his shoulders.

"No." Weakened by post-coital exhaustion, Tsuzuki couldn't put up the energy to push Muraki away. "Save it. You need it more than I do..."

"I'll worship you. I'll give you thanks. I'll praise you for your glory." Muraki's slick erection slid against his ass. "And then you will feed me anew."

Muraki leaned forward, pressing Tsuzuki's knees up his chest. His cock met no resistance. One powerful thrust, and he was sheathed to the hilt.

Tsuzuki whimpered softly. Muraki's heavy weight opened him up, filled him with that glorious mixture of pleasure-pain. Nothing else could make him feel so alive and invigorated. His spent cock twitched, reawakened by the friction against his prostate. He clutched the trenchcoat beneath him for support as Muraki began fucking him in earnest.

Above him, Muraki was exhaling heavily with each thrust. His breath was warm and ticklish against Tsuzuki's ear. Cast in partial shadow by the flickering flames behind him and the moonlit sky overhead, it was impossible to see his features well. Against the backdrop of the clear night sky, Muraki seemed mysterious and otherworldly - a phantom lover made flesh.

The lover of his dreams - no, even better. His imagination could never have come up with a lover so possessive and demanding and infuriatingly proud...

As Tsuzuki gazed up, he saw a shadowy form appear behind Muraki. It obscured the moonlight, yet was translucent enough for him to see the brightest of the stars twinkling overhead. It wafted over each of Muraki's shoulders, stretching longer than the width of his outstretched arms.

"Muraki...something's happening..."

"I know." Muraki slid one hand between their sweat-damp bodies, surging together in unison. "You're hard again. How I envy your incredible stamina."

"That's not...what I meant."

Dark branching veins threaded their way through the shadows, giving them substance and shape. They coalesced into two distinct silhouettes looming over each shoulder, a little higher than Muraki's head.

Tsuzuki stared. He reached up to touch it. He came away with a handful of something soft and fluffy. When he brought them closer, he saw them - downy feathers of the purest white.

"No! Nooo!"

Tsuzuki went berserk. He lacerated Muraki's shoulders with his nails. He bucked and squirmed, and dug his heels in Muraki's ribs.

Muraki hissed and recoiled. "Tsuzuki-san! What is it?"

"Get them off! We have to get them off!" Tsuzuki lunged forward, bloodied nails ready to strike.

"Enough!" Muraki grasped Tsuzuki's wrists. "What is it? What's the matter?" Hope lit his features. "Do you hunger for communion? My body and blood are yours--"

"Your back! Show me your back!"

Muraki turned around. There were no white feathers, no shadowy wings - only the frenzied criss-cross of bleeding lacerations Tsuzuki had inflicted with his own nails.

"But I saw them," Tsuzuki whispered. "I could've sworn they were there."

Muraki eyed him over his shoulder, his gaze alive with curiosity. "What did you see?"

Tsuzuki looked down at his empty bloodied hands. "I...I must've been imagining things."

"Just as your ears now hear, your eyes are opening too. Maybe what you saw was a premonition."

Tsuzuki froze. Power to see into the future? Such an ability didn't exist, not even for shinigami. "I'm sorry for scratching you," he said stiffly. "Use your Metal energy to heal yourself."

Muraki stretched the muscles of his back, a languid movement that started at his shoulders and rippled down the length of his spine. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Blood oozed from the cuts. Overflowing from the torn skin, dark rivulets dripped slowly down Muraki's unnaturally pale skin.

Tsuzuki stared. Muraki's nude back was a masterpiece of stunning erotic beauty. The wounds did not detract from his appeal - on the contrary, they were the brushstrokes that highlighted the graceful contours of the living canvas beneath.

Tsuzuki leaned in for a closer look. The cuts looked horrific, gory, incredibly painful...and yet...

One bloody rivulet slid along the length of Muraki's spine, past the small of his back. With aching slowness, it crept towards the cleft between his buttocks.

Tsuzuki could feel his body burning up. His heart was pounding against his ribs. The sweet scent of blood tickled his nostrils. Saliva filled his mouth. The terrible ache throbbing in his groin demanded relief...

Now.

He didn't make a conscious decision to touch Muraki. One moment he was staring at Muraki's beautiful flesh - the next, he was pressing open-mouthed kisses against the lacerations adorning one shoulder, swirling his tongue over the wounds to taste Muraki's blood. He clutched Muraki from behind to prevent his escape.

But Muraki was laughing in his rich melodic voice. He lifted one of his hands to grasp Tsuzuki's head, holding him in place. "That's it, beloved," he crooned. "Take your fill. You've deprived yourself for too long, ne?"

Blood smeared Tsuzuki's cheeks while he lapped at the cuts again and again. Sweeter than chocolate, more intoxicating than wine. He took care not to injure the torn skin with his teeth. Muraki's flesh was a precious gourmet delicacy - special care would be needed to make it last.

Muraki leaned back against Tsuzuki. His eyes were shut, his features one of blissful concentration. He tilted his head to one side, encouraging him to feed. "At last you partake in my body and blood, as I have partaken in yours. We two are now one, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki lifted his head. "Really?" His blood-stained lips curled in a sneer worthy of Muraki himself. "Then prove it. Let me inside you. Let me possess you." He nudged his hips forward, allowing his cock to glide against Muraki's lower back.

"No." Sharp nails dug into his scalp. "I let you feast from me. I lavish you with offerings and attention. I have proven myself already."

"I want to be inside you," Tsuzuki murmured against Muraki's neck, "and watch you dance in my arms. I know you'll make an excellent dance partner, Muraki."

Muraki stiffened against him. "No. I swore I'd never allow it again."

"But you enjoyed having my fingers inside you before. That didn't hurt, did it?" He nuzzled Muraki's cheek. "You liked it - I know you did."

Muraki turned away. "A lapse of judgement. It won't happen again."

Tsuzuki stroked his chest, soothing tense muscles. "I want us to be equals…in every way. If you'd just let me try--"

"No!" Muraki pulled free from Tsuzuki's hands. "My answer is final! I refuse to submit to another man! I refuse to be humiliated like that again - humiliated...and..."

"Defiled," Tsuzuki finished. Muraki's words were a bucket of cold water over the embers of his arousal. "It seems we're back where we started."

Muraki said nothing. He lowered his head, refusing to meet Tsuzuki's gaze.

Tsuzuki stood up and picked up his shirt. It was no use discussing this further. Muraki couldn't trust him - it was as simple as that.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere. I just want to be alone for a while." Tsuzuki put on his trousers without turning around. "Heal yourself. I don't need your flesh and blood anymore."

"I still need to feed."

Tsuzuki hardened his heart against the plaintive note in Muraki's voice. He needed time to think, free from Muraki's sexual demands.

"It can wait." Tsuzuki began trudging away from the campfire up the rocky hill. The barren ground beneath his feet held as much hope of life as his crumbling dreams.

* * *

In the Hall of Candles, Hakushaku and his taciturn guest watched the candle with the violet flame. Stirred by a sudden draught, it flickered before them. 

"Ahh, the vigour of youth," Hakushaku chuckled. "What I would give to be young again, free to indulge my passions without regard for the consequences."

The guest said nothing. He'd spoken very little the entire visit. A single cup of tea was the only refreshment to have passed his lips. His shadowed gaze had been firmly fixed on the candle the entire time.

"I say let the child have his fun." Hakushaku leaned close to the protective glass chimney around it. "No offspring will result from this dalliance. Everyone is entitled to the occasional peccadillo now and then, ne?" He let out an embarrassed laugh. "Goodness knows I've had my share of them."

"Indeed." The guest rose to his feet, his ornate armour clinking with his movements.

"Leaving so soon? Why not wait? There may be one more flare-up. Perhaps it will incinerate what's left of this mortal life."

"I have seen enough," the stranger rasped. "I must speak with Kinu."

"The gold bird! Another of your gifted pets!" Hakushaku exclaimed with delight. "If anyone would know about this, it would be him. But how remiss of him not to warn you in advance." Hakushaku clicked his tongue in mock-disapproval. "I hope for your sake he isn't saving his lovely songs for another."

The stranger paid him no attention. He moved to the door with his slow deliberate grace, his long shadow stretching before him on the polished wooden floorboards.

"Still, I wouldn't worry if I were you," Hakushaku continued. "The more fiery the passion, the more ashes left behind." He sighed deeply, resting one gloved hand against his invisible jaw. "Its days are surely numbered. I merely thought to inform you as a matter of course."

The stranger stopped. His dark shadow transformed into a thick swirling mass lacking discernable shape or form. "Your invisible eyes are as sharp as mine. For all its sputterings and sparks, this candle burns without diminishing in size."

Hakushaku's mask lifted up from the glove. "Does it? Oh." He sounded more amused than surprised. "Well, let's wait and see how long it lasts."

"I am not prepared to wait." The swirling mass extended to the door and swirled around his feet. Smoky tendrils snaked along the floor towards the light, flouting the physical laws governing light and shadow. "There is too much at stake!"

"Then do as you will. As the supreme lord of Meifu, that is your prerogative." Hakushaku waved a languid hand at the advancing tendrils, making them scurry back to their master. "I must say, your preoccupation with human souls is beginning to border on the vulgar. Do you not already hold all humanity in your grasp? An infinite number of souls stretching through time! So what does it matter if one slips between your fingers? The number left will still appear infinite to the sycophants in your court who hang on your every word." Hakushaku placed one gloved hand over his invisible chest. "Rest assured, your secret is safe with me. I promise not to breathe a word to anyone outside these walls."

The guest marched out, shadows swirling in turmoil. The door slammed behind him. But it wasn't soundproof enough to block out Hakushaku's laughter ringing in his ears, long after he had left the grounds.

* * *

_Thanks to Gengkotsuya for her help. Thanks also to the readers who have taken the time to write feedback - I appreciate it very much!_

_ Please note that this story draws on some elements of YnM canon that appeared only in the Hanayume installments. Translations are available from theria dot net. I don't think you need to know these elements to make sense of the story, because this tale is absurd and fantastic to begin with. But it will give you an idea of how derivative the storyline really is._

_ETA: Miss Kittin has done a beautiful artwork of Tsuzuki with bloody black feathers sprouting out of his back. Be sure to take a look at it on my site or her dA account: lyn-miss-kittin dot deviantart dot com_

* * *


	26. Indulgence

I'm indebted to Gengkotsuya for her assistance. A conversation about the Lenten rite of Salibatbat was a major inspiration for the events in this chapter.

Thanks to the readers who waded through all the chapters so far and taken the time to leave feedback. Your patience and dedication do you credit.

* * *

Tsuzuki kept walking. He stumbled over jagged rocks of solidified lava, heedless of the chilly night breeze.

He had to get away from Muraki before he gave in to temptation - a temptation of the flesh.

Delectable human flesh.

But it was impossible to eradicate Muraki from his mind...or his senses. Muraki's dried blood smeared his cheek, and the taste of it lingered on his tongue and teased his nostrils. His stomach growled, hungry for the forbidden drink it had just been denied.

_This is my body and blood. Partake of this and be saved. As you now live within me, so I will live within you._

Tsuzuki shivered, and pulled his unbuttoned shirt around his bare chest. He inhaled great gulps of the cool night air to clear away the metallic stench.

_When you drink, you will understand... Cast aside the remnants of the seal that binds you. The unveiling awaits!_

A lifetime ago, he swore he would never again break this most heinous of crimes. He had a hazy memory of a long darkened room lit by flickering torches in which he grovelled on the ground, begging for mercy:

_Please forgive me! I'll never do it again! I promise I'll never do it again!_

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. Yet another broken promise to add to the pile.

Muraki was a fool to tempt him. Like a child playing with fire, his boldness stemmed from ignorance, not courage. For the past five nights, he had demanded Tsuzuki reveal his true self and insisted that nothing could shock him. Yet when confronted with his wish, Muraki shrank away in disgust like everyone else.

That was why he suppressed this side of himself. That was why he wore a cheerful face and never confided his darkest urges to anyone. No one would accept him if they knew.

No one.

The breeze gathered strength to become an icy wind. His shirt flapped open under its onslaught. It grew in intensity to become a gale blasting directly into his face. He couldn't turn away from it, for the wind followed him at every turn, blowing with such ferocity he could barely open his eyes.

Wind - the power associated with Metal according to elemental magic tradition.

"Muraki?! Is this your doing?"

Sheltering himself against the wind was futile. It continued to push him back. It whipped his clothing aside and caressed his flesh with icy fingers. A high-pitched howl filled his ears. From eyes slitted against the cold blast, Tsuzuki saw the stillness of the rocky landscape around him. No dust flew up, no shrub trembled. Only he was being targeted by this mysterious wind.

Tsuzuki pressed his hands together and bowed his head. Hunching his body forward against the blast was the only way he could remain upright. The howling in his ears increased to a deafening roar. Focusing his mind, he mentally began to recite the prayer to summon Byakko, his Wind shikigami...

Like a naughty child turned obedient at the threat of punishment, the wind vanished to a wisp of a breeze.

Without its bracing force, Tsuzuki overbalanced and tumbled flat on his face.

"Muraki!!" He lifted himself up, furious.

He was no longer in the barren rocky ground of Unzen Spa. He found himself on his hands and knees in a park, with his fall cushioned by a grassy lawn. Overhead was a luminous full moon. Looking down, he discovered he wore his usual black trenchcoat, tie and trousers, with a plain white shirt.

A few metres away was Muraki. He was dressed immaculately as ever in his white trenchcoat, shirt, and trousers. He knelt in seiza position, his head bowed, on a mat laid out over the grass. Perfectly motionless, he may as well have been deaf to the world. Next to him was a small wooden table holding paper, a fountain pen, and a small dagger.

This night, this place...everything was different. An illusion? A dream?

Tsuzuki strode towards the likely source. This time he would keep his cool, regardless of what Muraki threw at him. "Muraki!"

Jolted out of his reverie, Muraki lifted his head. His long fringe of silver hair fell away to reveal a pair of matching grey eyes, both wide with wonder.

Tsuzuki stopped dead in his tracks. The retracted scarred right eyelid and the unnatural false eye beneath were gone. Without it, Muraki's face was a slate wiped clean - unlined and youthful, utterly beautiful in its chiselled perfection. This was Muraki, but not the one he knew.

This one was still whole, still human: Muraki before his demonic covenant.

"I must already be dead," Muraki whispered to himself. "Dead or dreaming. Either way it makes no difference." His enthralled gaze took stock of Tsuzuki from head to foot, drinking in the very sight of him. "You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name."

"You mean...are you saying you don't who I am?"

"Oh, I know who you are, but I wouldn't dare presume to know your name. I merely know what everyone knows, for your exploits have preceded you in myth and legend. Wherever your shadow falls, death and destruction shall follow." Muraki dropped his gaze to a point on the ground past Tsuzuki. "You know my plans, naturally. Have you come for me?"

Tsuzuki followed the direction of Muraki's gaze. All he could see was his own shadow cast by the moonlight - nothing out of the ordinary. He turned back to see Muraki's upturned face, now looking him directly at him once more. Waiting in anticipation...for what?

Was this another of Muraki's twisted games? Maybe it was a trick to fool him into another macabre blood-drinking 'communion.'

Tsuzuki lowered himself to a sitting position on the grass. He eyed the low wooden table with its sheet of blank paper, and the dagger resting nearby - the traditional implements for seppuku, ritual suicide. "I see you've gone to the effort to make the proper preparations." None of this was real, so there was no need for panic. "But you haven't written your death poem yet."

Muraki bowed his head in apology. "I was meditating on some suitably lyrical stanzas for the occasion when you arrived."

"Ahh, I see. Sorry for interrupting you." It was Tsuzuki's turn to perform an ironic bow of his own. "A shame you weren't able to find a white kimono to wear for the occasion."

"My apologies for the oversight." Muraki bowed again. "No doubt you have witnessed much more elaborate seppuku preparations than mine." Self-consciously he straightened the lapels of his immaculate white trenchcoat. "I did my best with the clothing I do possess."

A thought struck Tsuzuki. "Don't you normally wear a white outfit to work?"

Muraki blinked, surprised. "No. Why should I?"

"Really?" Tsuzuki was taken aback, for he'd always associated Muraki with white. In their very first meeting in Nagasaki, Muraki had worn this exact same outfit. "Well... I guess wearing white wouldn't be that practical, especially in your profession." The moonlight gifted his attire with an ethereal glow. Tsuzuki found it hard to take his eyes off him. "But it does look good on you."

Muraki was silent for a moment. "So I wear it well, is that all?" The compliment seemed to displease him. "Do you think I wear this for appearance's sake alone? Do you think I lack the purity of motives required to wear the colour white?"

"No, no. I never said that." A touchy subject. "I was just wondering why, on this lovely evening, a man who once worked to save others would suddenly decide to do away with himself."

"What is there to explain? Do you think I haven't seen you working behind my back to undermine my efforts at every turn?" In his lap, Muraki's hands clenched into fists. "You seek out the patients with the most tenuous grip on life, and prise what little energy they possess from their feeble grasp!"

The serene mask was crumbling. Grey eyes narrowed, gleaming with life and heat for the first time.

Desire and trepidation stirred within Tsuzuki. White did suit Muraki well, but anger suited him even better. Here was the real Muraki, the one he knew so well. "Have you seen Death at work?"

"Yes. I see you at work all the time. Your shadow lurks in the corners of the intensive care unit and operating suite. You haunt the emergency department and skulk the corridors of the ward, waiting for the chance to undo our feeble efforts at healing." Turning his palms up, Muraki studied his hands. "At best, we surgeons remove the source of illness, and hope our patients have the recuperative powers to make a full recovery. I know this..." His deep voice dwindled to a husky rasp. "I know this...and yet..." He looked up, eyes blazing with hatred. "Why, of all people, did you have to take _him_?"

_Him._ Just one simple syllable from Muraki's lips was all it took to drive the knife of jealousy deep into Tsuzuki's heart.

"Who...who was he?" Tsuzuki was too afraid to look Muraki in the eyes. "Was he someone important to you?"

"Of course he was important! You know very well what he meant to me. He was my first...my very first!"

"I see." The knife twisted deeper, squeezing the breath out of him. Tsuzuki didn't understand it. What was there to be jealous of? Muraki was a man of the world - he had loved a woman before, so why not a man? What made him think he was Muraki's first male lover?

But a sense of betrayal tormented him. He remembered Muraki's starstruck gaze in Nagasaki, his lingering caresses and extravagant flattery. He could still hear Muraki's words aboard the Queen Camellia whispered seductively against his ear:

_My desire keeps escalating...driving me crazy...for you, a man!_

Tsuzuki pulled up a handful of grass. "Such is life." He held out the grass so Muraki could see the broken blades and torn roots. "It can be as easily given as it is taken away. That is why you ought to value the time you have been given, instead of throwing away what you have left."

"I value my time!" Muraki snarled. "All ten hours of it, from the time I first saw him dying in the emergency department to the moment I pulled off my surgical gloves and walked out of the operating theatre!"

The grass fell through Tsuzuki's lax fingers. Not a lover...but a patient?

Muraki paused, a little stunned by his own outburst. "He was my very first patient as a cardiothoracic registrar," he continued more normally, "a young man with an acute aortic dissection. I saved his life back then - but now he's dead."

Tsuzuki resisted the desire to sag over in relief. But the idea of standing over a sick person, working to save a life for ten hours - it was beyond Tsuzuki's comprehension. He would never know such manual effort. Calling a shikigami took only seconds. Working non-stop for eight hours was tedious enough. The only thing Tsuzuki could remember doing for ten hours non-stop was sleeping.

He saw Muraki's white-knuckled fists and imagined those same fingers feverishly working to restore life. "What's an aortic dissection?" he asked meekly.

Muraki blinked, diverted from his anger. "A tear in the lining of the aorta, resulting in blood tracking through the muscle layer and dissecting the aortic wall in two. The pain is agonising, the outcome catastrophic. The haematoma constricts the aortic lumen to produce haemodymanic shock, then tracks up to the major aortic branches, producing stroke and myocardial infarct. If it tracks back to encase the heart, it leads to cardiac tamponade and almost certain death." His gaze was distant, lost in memory. "He was a 16-year-old male, previously undiagnosed Marfan's syndrome. I reviewed the CT scans, explained the findings to his parents, and obtained the consent for surgery. I remember organising the angiograms, booking the theatre, desperately searching for an on-call anaesthetist with cardiopulmonary bypass experience in the middle of the night." He snorted in rueful amusement. "Coaxing a senior anaesthetist from his bed at two in the morning...that was one of the most delicate steps in the entire procedure."

The medical jargon meant little to Tsuzuki. But like a child thrilled by adventures of dashing heroes in faraway places, he was entranced by Muraki's words. "So...you performed the operation that same night?"

Muraki nodded, still remembering. "Excision of his aortic root and valve and the insertion of a composite valve-graft replacement, followed by reimplantation of coronary arteries into the artificial graft. We were working against the clock to limit the risk of neurological complications--"

Tsuzuki let him continue, charmed by the strange words. They sounded like obscure spells, exotic music - mysterious and exciting to his ears. As a master of shikigami, science was foreign to him - in fact, science was the enemy to the proud gods who once roamed the earth. And personally, science left him cold. Facts and figures generated for their own sake did not interest him. He never really understood Watari's fascination with the subject.

But Muraki's words were different. He described the kind of science that could save a human life. His words were imbued with a weight and power as great as any summoning prayer or spell. Muraki possessed a unique ability he would never ever know. And the responsibility sat well on his shoulders. His voice resonated with sureness and authority. It was the kind of voice that inspired confidence amid uncertainty, that seemed to transform words into action simply by voicing them aloud.

Even the air had become still, as if the wind paused to hear him speak.

Demons and shikigami would be arrested by such a voice calling them by name.

_Tsuzuki-san...My dear Tsuzuki-san..._

Even he was all too susceptible to its allure. But this Muraki would never call him by name. Oddly enough, Muraki had no idea who he was. Perhaps he had yet to find his grandfather's records.

Muraki stopped, suddenly aware of Tsuzuki's rapt attention. He looked visibly abashed and oddly endearing for it. "Forgive me for monopolising the conversation."

"No, not at all. So did you save him?" Tsuzuki was eager to hear more. "Did he make a full recovery?"

"What does it matter? Indeed, he made an impressive recovery at the time, only to be critically injured six months later in a car accident. The life-saving aortic graft remained intact, which is more than I can say for the rest of him. My painstaking handiwork wasted - everything I had done for him at the time had all been for nothing."

Tsuzuki resisted the impulse to apologise and commiserate with him. Muraki's grief stemmed from a bruised ego more than a broken heart.

"Muraki, everyone dies sooner or later. Your operation, impressive as it was, was never going to make him live forever. You can't predict the future - no one can. Even knowing what you do now about his ultimate fate, would you rather have sat on your hands and watched him die when he first came to you with his dissecting aorta?"

"No." Muraki looked offended at the idea. "Of course I'd still operate on him."

"Of course. How could you not? You possess the skill to help many people with your scalpel. And that's exactly what you did with that patient. Your efforts weren't in vain."

"Truly you are generous in victory," Muraki mocked. "You are kind, far too kind." Absently he pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. "But you can't claim sole credit for this death. I had a hand in it as well, ne?"

Tsuzuki stiffened. "Are you...are you saying you killed him?"

"Effectively, I did." Muraki lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply before removing it from his lips. "I prescribed a blood-thinning medication for him after his operation to prevent clots forming on the graft - as per standard practice. Do you know what caused his death?" A parody of a grin curled his lips.

Tsuzuki shook his head.

"Massive intracerebral haemorrhage from head trauma sustained during the accident." He took another drag from his cigarette, drawing out the silence for dramatic effect.

"B-But how is that your fault? Unless you caused the accident--"

"I was the one who put him on the drug that made him bleed like a stuck pig in the car wreck..." His voice rose sharply. His gaze became fixed, overbright, maniacal. "It's really true! The pen is mightier...than the sword! With the blade I saved him six months ago...only to doom him with a few strokes of my pen..." He suddenly erupted into fits of hysterical laughter. "Death wins! Death...always wins!"

Tsuzuki didn't know what to say. Even teetering on the edge of insanity, Muraki's pain was all too visible to see.

Muraki covered his eyes with one hand, while he gasped for breath. His silver hair parted briefly to reveal his ears - unadorned by the ruby studs. "I can't bear living...in this ridiculous world...where nothing goes according to my plan. Disease, disfigurement, decay...there is no escape from death's tightening noose. My deeds are thwarted at every turn...and I can't stomach defeat any longer, shinigami. You win."

None of this is real, Tsuzuki reminded himself. This was just a dream, a hallucination, a charade. The Muraki he knew was marked by a demonic covenant branded on his eye and harnessed Metal energy to do his bidding. The Muraki he knew called him by name...

"Take me. You can be my kaishakunin, the assistant who delivers the final blow." Muraki stubbed out his cigarette as he spoke. "Let me finish this smoke, and I shall carry out the deed. I am in no state of mind to write a graceful and carefree death poem as dictated by custom. I have spoken what was in my heart. That is enough."

Illusion or not, Tsuzuki couldn't sit and watch like an indifferent bystander. It wasn't in his nature to hold back when he knew he could make a difference. He picked up the grass he had dropped moments before and clenched them in his fist. If he did possess this Wood energy, the occult fifth element, then he may as well put it to use.

"This isn't a battle, Muraki. You're not a loser any more than I am a winner. Life and death have existed side by side since the dawn of time. One cannot exist without the other. Just as living things die, so their bodies are consumed in order to create new life." He lifted the grass in his hand. "I'll prove it to you. Look at what these soiled hands of death can do."

Focusing his mind, he tried to visualise energy flowing from his hand into the torn blades of grass. Nothing happened. Was he supposed to say something? But what? He didn't say anything before. On the contrary, his newly-rediscovered powers were beyond his control. If it hadn't been for Genbu's guidance...

_Plants retain information passed down through many generations within the very fibre of their being. This little one has not forgotten its foremost allegiance._

Tsuzuki tried again. Grow, he silently commanded. In his mind's eye, he imagined a big bouquet of glorious yellow tulips bright enough to bring a smile to anyone's face.

His fingertips tingled. The grass blades lengthened in his hand, their tips slowly uncurling inch by inch, then blossoming into a chaotic profusion of fluffy white dandelion heads, sheafs of grass with nodding heads of grain, and tiny petalled flowers with long hairy stems.

This wasn't the lovely tulip bouquet he imagined. This was little more than a laughable mass of weeds.

But Muraki didn't laugh. He leaned forward for a closer look, eyes wide. Perhaps this was his first encounter with any form of magic, for there was something delightfully innocent about his curiosity.

"A trick," he murmured at last. His eyes narrowed. "The grasping hand of Death is not known for such generosity."

"It's no trick. Here, you hold it." Tsuzuki thrust the makeshift posy into Muraki's face.

Muraki reached out to grab it, a reflex action. His fingers brushed Tsuzuki's hands.

A sizzling jolt of awareness passed through Tsuzuki. He had a vivid impression of smooth fingerpads, and long slender fingers capable of great dexterity and power. Most of all, he was aware of that scorching living heat that made his muscles weak with desire...and his insides rage with bloodlust all over again.

Over the weeds, he saw Muraki's mesmerised gaze - fixed and wide-eyed, as if he too was entranced by the physical contact...and equally as hungry.

Tsuzuki tried to pull free. He mustn't give in - not now. But Muraki clasped his hands, holding them prisoner. The thriving weeds continued to grow, flowers and seedheads spilling over their joined hands.

"It's not much." Tsuzuki laughed weakly. "Not in the same league as a bouquet of roses, huh?"

Muraki paused. His gaze became hooded. "Are you trying to proposition me?"

"No!" Tsuzuki felt his cheeks flush. "I-I just wanted to demonstrate how wrong you are about life. Life is much more resilient than you think. It can flourish in the depths of the ocean, within the heart of volcanoes, at the peaks of the highest mountains...and even in the shadow of death itself."

"Really?" Muraki's gaze flicked to a point on the ground beside Tsuzuki.

"Yes. If you can just learn to look beyond your own humanity, you'll see how diverse and vigorous life can be. Death isn't the end, Muraki - it's simply a transformation into new life."

"New life? Life from death? Surely you make fun of me. Next you'll be promising me resurrection and eternal life!" Muraki's grip became manacles around Tsuzuki's wrists. The weeds fell between them, forgotten. "What are you, really? Why do you hide yourself? Why should I believe you when you refuse to reveal your face?"

"I'm not hiding." Cold dread stole over Tsuzuki. "What do you see when you look at me?"

"Nothing," Muraki said simply. "You are null and void. You are absolute zero. All I see is an amorphous mass of swirling blackness devouring everything in its path - including me."

"I'm not like that!" Tsuzuki glanced down at himself. He saw no swirling blackness or empty void. "Can't you see me at all? Not even my eyes? What about my hands?" He squeezed Muraki's fingers. "You're holding them right now."

"Only because you're adept at mimicking your victims!" Muraki tried to pull him closer. "I see no eyes. All I see are two points of light where your eyes should be."

Muraki's scent filled his nostrils: a heady blend of aftershave and the faint musk of human flesh. Saliva filled his mouth. His stomach growled. His willpower wavered.

"You can't fool me. I know what you want. I see you for what you truly are." Muraki's hands slid up his arms to seize his shoulders. "Neither the feel of your sham body...nor this fragrance of...of..." Puzzled, he bent forward and inhaled deeply. "Roses?"

Tsuzuki didn't move. He couldn't smell roses - all he could smell was the intoxicating scent of living human flesh. Any closer and he'd be able to sink his teeth into the column of Muraki's throat.

"My mother...she used to wear a fragrance like this. She adored roses...almost as much as her collection of porcelain dolls." Muraki released him. "As a child...I would do my best to measure up to their flawless perfection...to be worthy of her approval. Of course, I never could, and my shortcomings only worsened in her eyes as I entered puberty. Never again would I be her finest doll. Dolls stay young and cute forever. Dolls do not age and decay and die."

What kind of a mother did Muraki have? What kind of a mother saw their child as an inanimate doll?

"Most shameful of all, a part of me was relieved when she died. I thought I'd be free of her disapproval at last." Muraki chuckled to himself. "But I was wrong. She lives on in me. Like her, I crave perfection...and I always fall short. I am still my mother's doll."

"Don't say that! You can be different! You can reject your mother's ideals! You can choose to be free of her influence!"

"Humans are not free. The spectre of death hangs over us, waiting." Muraki cast a mocking glance at Tsuzuki. "It seems as if the one certainty we mortals have in life is the option to choose the time of our own death through suicide. Isn't that so, shinigami?"

"I'm not here for you," Tsuzuki replied. He ignored the crazy impulse to nibble Muraki's curling lips until he erased that smirk. A persuasive argument was needed - a challenge to rouse Muraki's competitive streak. "If you're after the moral high ground of helpless victimhood, then be my guest. Admit defeat and die by your own hand - the coward's way out. But don't expect me to cut you down before your prime and spare you further misery. Your time isn't up yet."

"Am I not yet a ripe enough target for you? You take the life of a teenage boy, yet you spare the life of a grown man? Why? Do you want to see me suffer more?"

"No, no! I want..." Tsuzuki shook his head in frustration. "I want to see you reach your full potential as a successful surgeon. There will be more patients after this one, many you will save from near-death - and yes, some we shinigami will claim for our own. As a surgeon embarking on your career, these setbacks will wound you and cause you grief...but they can also hone your determination and spur you to greater heights. Whether you wilt or thrive in the face of adversity depends on you!"

"So what do you recommend? A training session in delusional positive thinking to blind myself to the unbearable truth?"

"You could learn from nature." Tsuzuki picked up a discarded violet thistle flower. Despite being torn at the stem, it continued to writhe and grow. "A flower bud can blossom after it is picked for a bouquet. A pruned tree or shrub can regrow more vigorously with a profusion of flowers and a finer crop of fruit. Plants endure regardless of what fate casts their way." He twirled the flower between his fingers. It pirouetted up in a renewed growth spurt. "You chose your career for a reason, right? There are special people in your life you dearly want to help - as well as one you want to resurrect for your own twisted purpose."

Startled alarm hardened into brooding suspicion. "So you know of my plans for vengeance. I never knew a God of Death could be so well-versed in the minutiae of a single life."

Tsuzuki's knowing smile didn't reach his eyes. "Die now, and you give up not only your life but theirs as well, plus many of your future patients. If you have no problem with that, then far be it for me to stand in your way." Tsuzuki stood up. The flower fell from his hand.

Muraki caught it. "I don't believe my ears. Does Death seek a contest?" A statement, not a question. "Do you want a rival to uphold the lives you intend to cut down?"

"Not a rival...but perhaps a guardian." A wistful note entered Tsuzuki's low voice. "A guardian of human life - someone to inspire hope in the ill during their darkest hour, and fight on their behalf to keep the shadow of death at bay." He shrugged and turned around, ready to walk away. "That's been the role of all healers, from traditional herbal practitioners to specialised heart surgeons, right?"

Muraki's head lifted. He knew a challenge when he heard one. A glint of defiant pride lit up his steely eyes.

"Very well, I accept. But on one condition."

Tsuzuki stopped and turned around, only too eager to please. "What?"

Muraki contemplated the violet flower for a long moment. "As part of our contract, you bless my corporeal form with the same regenerative power you bestow on these plants. Only by granting me immunity from death can I ever be a worthy guardian of life."

"Contract?! Who said anything about a contract?"

"How else can I be sure you will keep your word? A contract is the only way to ensure both parties will honour its terms."

"No!" Tsuzuki stepped back. "I don't make contracts! I-I'm not a demon hunting for human souls!"

"How are you any better? You're a shadowy god who drains humans of life to feed the yawning void within yourself."

"I uphold the orders of JuOhCho, the court that judges the dead! I don't know why you think I'm some black void gobbling up people left, right and centre, but I swear I'm not like that! I appear as human as you!" He knew he appeared perfectly normal - apart from his unusual eye colour. "Maybe...maybe you're the one who can't see properly. Maybe you're too blinded by prejudice and arrogance to visualise me as I truly am!"

"Then what about this?" Muraki stood up and held out the bobbing thistle flower. "Has JuOhCho decreed that you trample human potential only to bestow it on...on useless weeds?"

"Plants aren't useless! Plants provide the food that sustains all animal life. Plants absorb the carbon in the atmosphere and replace it with life-giving oxygen." He jabbed an accusing finger in Muraki's direction. "All the little luxuries you take for granted - the cigarettes you smoke, the coffee and tea you drink in the morning, and the wine and sake you sip at night - all these come from plants!" A sudden wave of inspiration filled his voice with excitement. "Plants are even the source of important drugs like aspirin and morphine! Imagine how difficult medicine would be without them! If anything, humans owe a huge debt to plants and should be helping them survive instead of...of knocking trees down and setting fire to forests as if they're the only species who have the right to exist on this earth--"

A brutal snap stopped Tsuzuki in mid-sentence.

The bobbing thistle flower was gone. Muraki held the lifeless stem in one hand. His other hand was curled in a tight fist.

"I see." Muraki observed the broken stem dispassionately. "Plants are your raison d'etre. Plants are weak and defenceless, and therefore the ideal excuse for your merciless culling of humanity, ne?" He opened his fist and the crushed flower fell to the ground. "You want your acolytes to be fragile and pitiful creatures, so you may play the part of the noble protector. You bolster your ego in the comforting knowledge they are dependent on you alone for support: the classic features of an individual who compensates for their poor esteem by embracing a saviour-complex."

Cut to the quick, Tsuzuki was speechless. Muraki's words were sharp and precise, a finely honed blade aimed straight at his greatest weakness. In his mind's eye, he could see himself blithely reassuring people that he'd protect them from harm no matter what the circumstances, dismissing the level of danger involved, always keen to offer hope and a supportive shoulder to cry on. He just wanted to be their friend. He wanted to win over their trust...

"W-What's wrong with wanting to help others who are suffering and in need of help? Aren't you doing the same thing as a doctor? That means you've got a saviour complex as much I have!"

Muraki bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Indeed I do. And look what it's brought me." He held out his arms and whirled around, his white trenchcoat flaring around him. "Frustration, self-loathing, guilt and misery! But tonight it will end here." He threw the stem away and strode past the low table. With one graceful swoop, he seized the dagger.

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki halted when Muraki waved the upright blade before him. "What are you up to?"

"Give me the power of regeneration. Give me the same power you grant to plants, and I promise you a fine contest of epic proportions. Strengthen me in body and mind so I can be a worthy opponent for you. Compared to your greatness, I am but a mere blade of grass - puny and helpless, trembling at the hint of a breeze." Muraki lifted the dagger up before him. "Let me be a sacred sword, as hard and unyielding as steel - for that is the only way I can do your bidding."

A chill went down Tsuzuki's spine. None of this was real...was it? "I-I don't want a contest or a contract. I don't want you to do anything for me. All I want is for you to live and help others to do the same--"

"I can't!" Muraki roared. "I've tried and I can't! I'm plagued by the fear of failure night and day! My hand trembles constantly under the weight of my guilt! I'm not fit to perform surgery! I'm too weak...too weak..." He came towards Tsuzuki and held out his left hand, palm upwards. "See for yourself! Even the spiked leaves of a mere weed can cause me injury!"

In the moonlight, Tsuzuki could see the oozing dark blood. It was only inches from his face. The metallic scent filled his nostrils, making him giddy. But he couldn't take it. Human flesh was forbidden...expressly forbidden...

"A minor wound...nothing compared to the callous way you treated that flower." Tsuzuki turned away, ignoring his stomach's protest. He wrapped his trenchcoat close to shield himself from temptation. "In time your body will heal itself..."

Muraki dropped his hand to his side. "I see. So what would be a more fitting punishment in your eyes? What restitution should I make?" He blocked Tsuzuki's path before he could escape. "Are you like the vengeful gods of the West, demanding sacrifice after sacrifice of the finest produce to appease your wrath? Or should I humble myself before you with acts of flagellation or mutilation to rouse your pity?" His grey eyes lit up. "Why, that's it! Then you will bless me with your healing regenerative power, ne? You will have no choice but to heal me, for how else will I be able to answer your challenge?"

Icy fear gripped Tsuzuki, rooting him to the spot. Muraki's manic glee terrified him in a way his anger never could. "You must be crazy. I never asked this of you...never ever."

But Muraki was too caught up with his plan to listen. "Yes, of course! What a perfect solution!" He stepped away, his footsteps as light as air. "As you have taught me tonight, so I shall prune my body to strengthen my mind." He removed his glasses with a toss of his head and carelessly threw them aside. "Blinded by prejudice and arrogance, I shall renounce these useless eyes that, by your very own words, cannot see you as you truly are. For this fervent act of devotion, please grant me this indulgence - a release from this sentence of guilt and death!" He raised the dagger, blade up in his right hand. "I humbly ask this of you, my lord--"

Tsuzuki seized Muraki's arm. "No!"

Muraki slashed blindly with the dagger. "Deliver me...from my living hell. Even wrapped in your shadowy black void...is a better place..." They tumbled to the ground together, the knife between them.

"Stop praying!" Tsuzuki tried to lever Muraki's arm out to one side. One slash of the blade caught him across the jaw. "I'm no healer! I'm a shinigami, dammit!" He clawed at Muraki's white-knuckled grip to prise the knife free.

Muraki slammed his free left hand over Tsuzuki's face, and shoved his chin up and away.

Blood. Fresh blood. It was everywhere. Against his parted lips, along his nose, smeared against his cheeks and chin. It invaded his nostrils, suffocating him with its overwhelming metallic odour. The hunger pangs clawed inside him, a ravenous beast demanding to be let loose.

A taste. One lick would do. He'd denied himself long enough. All he had to do was slide out his tongue, and that luscious human flesh would be all his...

_You're not human! Monster! Monster! You're not human!!_

Tsuzuki bit his lip hard. He had to resist. He had to resist!

With a huge effort of will, he seized the bloody hand and pushed it away. "I'm human! I am! I aaam!" He sat up and bellowed it to the moon and stars, the trees and grass, and the taunting voices in his head. "I aaaaaam!"

Silence. None of them contradicted him. There was just a soft squelch beside him, followed by the scrape of steel against bone. Tsuzuki cringed in horror as he was suddenly splattered with warm liquid. He saw Muraki's hand fall lifelessly to his side, fingers uncurling from the dagger. Twined around the blade was a shiny blob of bloody tissue. A portion of it glistened white and grey.

"No...I never meant..." Tsuzuki put his hands to his mouth. "What...what have I done? What have I...Muraki...?"

Lying face up on the grass, Muraki was deathly still. Blood pooled in his right eyesocket and trickled down his cheek like bloody tears. He bared his teeth in a grimace of unspeakable agony, yet not a sound left his lips.

Trembling violently, Tsuzuki buried his face against Muraki's chest. "Forgive...forgive me..." He took a deep breath in, squeezed his eyes shut, and let everything out in an ear-splitting howl of anguished despair.

The wind swirled around him, whipping the sound from his mouth, yet he kept howling. Violent tremors shook the ground, each one stronger than the one before, and he still howled. The earth could shudder and sob as well - for this terrible guilt was too much to bear alone.

* * *

"Such audacity! Being a chimera does not grant you the right to provoke your betters with impunity!"

That rumbling basso profundo voice snapped Tsuzuki to full awareness. "Genbu?"

In his reptilian guise, the God of Earth lowered his head, his serpentine neck arching down from a great height. "You dare to break the fragile barrier that divides your world from ours? You dare to bring down the wrath of the Elements yet again?" Black smoke curled from his nostrils. "Awaken the Creator, and know the Destroyer shall follow." He stamped the ground with one foot, sending another tremor through the ground.

"It's my fault, Genbu! I shouldn't have let go of him...but I couldn't help it!" Tsuzuki looked up in desperate appeal. "We've got to help him! We've got to do something!"

Genbu's features lacked the expressive mobility of a human's, yet there was a softening in his golden gaze.

"And you already did, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki's voice, low and soothing, spoke from behind. "See for yourself."

Tsuzuki turned. The green park was no more. They were back in the barren wastelands of Unzen Spa. Beyond the hilly horizon, fingers of faint sunlight penetrated the starry pre-dawn sky.

Muraki was sitting on his knees, dressed in the same white trenchcoat and suit as before. But his face was free of blood. Silver hair fell over his forehead, concealing his right eye. In each earlobe was a ruby stud. There was no smug triumph, no condescending smirk on his face. His expression was an impassive mask as steely and impenetrable as the Metal sustaining him.

Of course. It had all been an illusion...yet one with the vivid clarity of truth.

Tentatively Tsuzuki lifted the silver fringe of hair from Muraki's forehead. He studied the retracted eyelid and the false metallic eye with a newfound dread.

"This...this isn't man-made?"

"Medical technology has yet to perfect a bionic eye. When I returned to work, I explained it to my colleagues as an experimental prototype, one too intricate and costly to ever be available to the public."

Tsuzuki dropped his hands. "You once told me it was custom-made for you!"

"And it was," Muraki replied simply. "There is only one like it in existence."

"On the Queen Camellia you mentioned how hard it was to preserve the optic nerve and find spare parts! I remember you said--"

"I didn't lie. I had CT scans performed in order to understand the mechanism behind it. I hoped to make a similar implant to assist vision-impaired patients, but it proved impossible. The images revealed an array of thousands of photosensitive electrodes linked by intricate circuitry to the optic neurons - a fusion of the organic and inorganic that defied scientific explanation. After much research, I did manage to commission a crude approximation of the individual electrodes at much expense. But as for implanting them into the eyesocket so they could send signals to the brain..." Muraki shrugged. "I never could replicate in animal experiments the very model that worked so well within myself. I realised then that the answer lay not in dismantling the mechanism, but in meeting the maker." His level stare pinned Tsuzuki to the spot.

Tsuzuki didn't voice the obvious question burning inside him - the same question he'd asked night after night. He'd gone down that dead end too many times before, and he had the feeling Muraki was daring him to take the same well-trodden path yet again.

"So you never saw him? The one you encountered that night...you never asked him to reveal his name or face?"

"No." Surprise flickered in Muraki's good eye. The guarded tension in his features eased. "Why would any god explain himself to a human? On the contrary, many jealously guard their true face behind a fake guise. Is that not so, Guardian of Earth?"

With his head hovering protectively over Tsuzuki, Genbu let out a dismissive snort. A puff of black smoke curled from his nostrils.

"All I sought was an indulgence - a small reprieve from the burden of mortality. My meagre sacrifice was accepted as a sign of my devotion to my new calling."

_Meagre sacrifice..._

Muraki had said the same about Saagatanus after he'd gouged out the demon's eyes on the golf course. Tsuzuki remembered it well. Muraki then offered both eyeballs to him - re-enacting the gory ritual he first performed on himself?

Tsuzuki felt sick to the stomach. "So how did you learn the occult arts?" he asked tightly. "The ability to curse others...drain them of their spiritual energy...calling on demons to do your bidding..."

"The demons were the ones who first came to me. News of my indulgence spread like wildfire throughout Makai, the demon world. Many demons, large and small, visited me in visions and dreams. A living example of true regeneration like myself excited their interest. Demons are low in spiritual energy and must prey on others to maintain their addiction to Fire. But they pay a high price for their fiery pyrotechnics - they forfeit all regenerative potential of their own."

"True! True!" Muraki's grey cat appeared gingerly between the rows of horns on Genbu's head. "How long are we meant to remain in this purgatory? How long are we to be treated as outcasts? Have we not already suffered enough? We await the immeasurable Light that will lead us out of darkness!"

"If demons were granted limitless power, they would leave nothing but scorched earth and ash!" Genbu rumbled. With ponderous steps, he moved close behind Tsuzuki. "Humans are already desecrating the Earth well enough without a helping hand!" He tilted his head forward as he spoke, unbalancing the cat on purpose. The feline scrabbled for purchase on the leathery scales, then let out an angry hiss and leapt to the ground. Quickly it sought refuge in Muraki's lap.

"Hush, Genbu. I won't allow that to happen." Tsuzuki turned back to Muraki. "Go on. So demons came to you for help?"

Muraki nodded. "When they heard of a human who had been gifted with regenerative potential, they were desperate to know how they could obtain a similar favour for themselves. They offered me all kinds of worldly pleasures in return: wealth beyond my wildest dreams; miraculous surgical skills to make me the envy of my peers; a bevy of sexual partners of every possible age, gender and persuasion to satisfy my every desire." He idly stroked behind the cat's ears and sighed deeply. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted at the time."

Unwelcome images of Muraki entwined in the arms of another filled Tsuzuki's mind. "Somehow you don't strike me as the kind of person who'd say no to fame and fortune with lashings of gratuitous sex."

"Tsuzuki-san!" Muraki affected a hurt expression. "You have so little faith in me. Even I know that life's pleasures taste far sweeter when they have been earned through one's own efforts."

"But you could've become a miraculous healer, the surgeon you always longed to be! Do you expect me to believe you refused the chance to fulfil a lifelong ambition?"

"Did you expect me to be so easily duped?" Muraki retorted. "Demons are motivated by profit, not altruism. Demons are the hustlers of the spirit world. Imagine if I had entered into such a contract. As soon as the contract was fulfilled and my life and soul forfeit, my patients would surely die shortly after from some mysterious post-operative complication. The demon would claim their souls as well, I imagine." Muraki looked fondly at the cat. "It would be kinder to kill a patient by my own hand than save one through a demon's, ne?"

The cat blinked. "We no longer need to kill now that we are in the presence of the everlasting Light. The Light will save us, nourish us and sustain us. Glory be to the Light."

Tsuzuki was losing patience. "Then why keep a demon sealed in cat form? What do you gain by keeping this creature?"

"Knowledge. Arcane knowledge only an ageless being would know. My encounter with the afterworld left me full of burning questions. I wanted to know everything about the mystical spirit worlds, the powerful beings who inhabited them, and their purpose in meddling with us humans. Most of all, I wanted to learn about my mysterious benefactor, and how I could summon him back again." Muraki took off one of the ruby studs. It was covered in blood. He held it before the cat, which began licking it. "This little one taught me all about Meifu's indentured shinigami, Makai's squabbling demons, and their eternal battle for that most prized of spiritual resources: human souls."

"In exchange for your blood? No wonder you're anaemic!"

"Not just blood," Muraki corrected. "Demons have no use for human blood, ne?" His grey gaze challenged Tsuzuki to disagree. "But blood that once flowed with regenerative potential is different. Even eight years later, it retains a bewitching aroma that charms living and non-living alike, and as for the flavour..." He held up his blood-stained fingers. "Would you like another taste?"

Hypnotised, Tsuzuki couldn't look away.

"No one will judge you here. Taste this, and understand why so many are drawn to your side." He left his earring with the cat then held his hand out to Tsuzuki. "The potential in my blood has been diluted to an infinitesimal level, yet it still nourishes and sustains. So imagine how much richer and sweeter the blood of my benefactor must be - the one who first blessed my decrepit flesh!"

Tsuzuki seized his wrist. "You never saw his face. You couldn't recognise him. You said so yourself! How do you know--"

"He concealed his face, but he opened his heart. I spoke to him as freely as you and I speak now. I bore witness to his bountiful generosity and amazing miracles. He proved to a doubter like myself that he is the seed from which regeneration springs forth!" Muraki's fringe lifted as if blown by a non-existent breeze, revealing his false eye. "He left his mark on me as proof! Behold the omnipresent symbol of life itself, present in everything from strands of DNA to the very structure of the galaxy!"

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. A glowing red spiral swirled around Muraki's pupil, circling inwards upon itself without end. He'd seen this before - in the same dream that Muraki marked him in red, and announced his presence in Nagasaki.

"Aha!" Muraki noticed Tsuzuki's stunned recognition. "Finally you see it, ne?" He placed his clean hand under Tsuzuki's chin, preventing escape. "At last you remember."

"B-But I don't remember doing this! I only know this mark from my dreams! How can it be my handiwork if I can't remember doing it?"

"Because you've been asleep," Muraki murmured soothingly, "and you sleep even now. You are the lord and owner of many faces, and like a miser you jealously guard each and every one." He slid his index finger along Tsuzuki's jawline. "You may think me duplicitous, but I cannot compare to a master like you."

"I'm not...like that..." The glowing spiral seemed to be drawing him in, deeper and deeper, into a black void.

Watching from his bird's-eye view overhead, Genbu's reptilian eyes narrowed to slits.

"Let me show you the name - the true name of the one who granted me this indulgence, the name of the one I am unworthy to utter aloud. In this name lies the enlightenment and the glory that is your birthright. Read and you will understand." Muraki's silken voice held a sinister yet tantalising promise. All the while, his fingers were stroking a feather-light path to the sensitive flesh at the nape of his neck.

"Why?" It took all of Tsuzuki's willpower not to lean into the gentle caress. He averted his gaze from the glowing spiral. "Why do you want to wake me up? What's wrong with the way I am now?"

"You've slumbered for too long. You dulled your vision because you hated your eyes." Muraki tilted his head and leaned closer until their lips were inches apart. "You allowed yourself to be chained and fed scraps because you feared your very teeth and claws. You turned your back on your true self to embrace ignorance and fear, to the point that even the sight of your own shadow unfurled fills you with horror."

_Wherever your shadow falls, death and destruction shall follow._

Tsuzuki shoved Muraki away and rushed to his feet. His shadow was nothing more than a small pool of inky blackness beneath him. He whirled around on the spot once, then a second time, his black trenchcoat flaring about his legs. His shadow exaggerated the swirl of cloth and physical motion, but otherwise mirrored the sudden motion with precision.

He turned on Muraki. "What unfurled shadow are you talking about? My shadow is normal, like anyone else's!"

"Do you want to see what I see?" Muraki stood up and offered his bloodstained fingers again. "Then you must taste a little more. Your body stirs, but your mind still sleeps. Only when your mind is awake will you see--"

Tsuzuki stepped back. "See what? Kagetsu is not my power! And Metal is not my power either! How can I be responsible for that artificial eye of yours? All I can do is...is make plants grow!"

"A fledgling effort - an early manifestation of elemental Wood." Muraki placed his fingers against Tsuzuki's lips. "The fifth element is yours to harness and command, if you would only choose to accept your destiny."

Tsuzuki shook him away. "No! It's just a paranormal ability of some kind - like ESP or telekinesis!" He ignored the prickling sensation along his shoulder blades. "Commanding an element is something only a shikigami can do, and there's no such thing as a Wood shikigami!" He appealed to Genbu for support. "You tell him! Is there any shikigami that commands Wood energy?"

Genbu stared from one man to the other: Tsuzuki's wild desperation, Muraki's zealous determination. "There is no such shikigami..." he slowly intoned.

Tsuzuki felt vindicated. "See, Muraki?"

"...residing in Gensoukai."

"Well, well," Muraki chuckled. "Note the qualifier, Tsuzuki-san. Your God of Wisdom only speaks for those inside Enma's virtual world! What about a shikigami that lives beyond the reaches of Gensoukai?" he demanded of Genbu.

"The world outside is a hostile place for a shikigami. Our names are forgotten, and reverence for our power is derided as superstition." His despondent gaze lingered over Tsuzuki. "No shikigami can survive for long divided from his own kind."

"Genbu...?"

Genbu cleared his throat with a great rumble. "While I am here I must nourish the Earth." With that, he swung around and plodded away.

Stunned, Tsuzuki watched him go. He'd seen his shikigami in the grip of many powerful emotions: rage, triumph, joy, displeasure. But never had he ever seen a shikigami so gloomy...and disappointed.

Worst of all, disappointed in him.

"Wisdom is only useful to one who wishes to be wise," Muraki murmured from behind. "To one who prefers to remain a fool, it must be a great nuisance indeed."

"Go back to your apartment." Tsuzuki wasn't in the mood to trade petty insults any longer. "If you've drained enough spiritual energy from me to create elaborate illusions, you should be able to return home without my help."

"These are more than illusions. These are the memories of your past re-created anew by your subconscious mind. All I did was provide certain visual triggers to facilitate your recall. Everything you experienced came from your mind alone." Muraki frowned when he saw Tsuzuki walking away. "Why aren't you joining me?"

"It's nearly morning, and I have to speak to Genbu--" The ground trembled beneath them. A vicious swing of Genbu's tail, and a rocky hill collapsed into a rubble-strewn plateau. A stamp of his foot, and the earth parted to reveal a new fissure of glowing rocks and hissing steam.

"Before he sets off a volcanic eruption," Muraki finished, walking after him. "Very well. I shall wait for you in my apartment. When you return, we shall feed and have breakfast together."

Tsuzuki stopped in his tracks. "No! We've done it enough times already! No more feeding!" He pointed wildly into the distance. "Go home and get some sleep, you sex maniac!"

"When I pray, you will surely come..." Muraki seized the hand and brought it to his lips. "...for I am yours, and you are mine."

Tsuzuki pulled his hand free, but not before he'd felt the nip of sharp teeth. Without a word, he whirled away after the God of Earth.

"Remember to return my car as well," Muraki called after him. He watched Tsuzuki leave, arms folded, satisfied with his progress.

The cat rubbed its head against his leg. Muraki picked it up in his arms and allowed it to lick the dried blood from his fingers.

"Observe his shadow," Muraki said. "See the way it ripples in his wake - just like that first moonlit night."

"But it ebbs and flows without his knowledge, then freezes into obedience when he looks upon it." The cat lashed its tail impatiently. "Why does it conceal itself from him? Shouldn't it be an exact counterpoint to the glory of the Light?"

"No doubt it follows the timid example set by its master. But never mind. We will take on that task in its place, ne?"

In a flash of white light, the two of them vanished.


	27. Second test: first flight

Out of the corner of his eye, Tsuzuki saw Muraki and his cat disappear. He waited until he was sure Muraki was gone before speaking.

"Genbu! What kind of answer was that? Whose side are you on anyway?"

Genbu halted his ponderous trudging steps. "As God of Earth and Guardian of Wisdom, I answered your question. Do not hold me responsible if the reply is not to your liking." His sinuous neck swung around, and he fixed Tsuzuki with a piercing gaze. "You should know better than most the dangers of putting a god to the test."

"I didn't mean to test you!" Tsuzuki marched up to the formidable snake-tortoise. "But how was I to know? You never told me anything about Wood shikigami!"

Genbu turned away, head held high. "You never asked me until now."

"How do you expect me to ask about something I was never told about?" Tsuzuki threw back. "Excuse me for not being an all-knowing God like yourself!"

"Very well." Genbu curled his neck in a regal arch as he stared down at Tsuzuki. "You are excused."

Tsuzuki gritted his teeth. He should've known Genbu's thick hide was impervious to sarcasm. "Do you realise what you've done? Do you? You've given him more ammunition for his schemes!"

"I know," Genbu rumbled.

"Really? So you agree with Muraki? You think I should let him awaken that 'thing' inside me - my true nature, as he calls it? That's all he's after, you know." Tsuzuki began marching in angry circles. "This parasite lurking inside me that revels in chaos and destruction...he wants it for himself! But I won't let it out...not again, and not for him! If you saw for itself what it could do..."

"I know." Genbu's deep voice was little more than a subsonic murmur.

"All my life I've tried to keep it hidden. I'd attempt suicide to silence the voices...anything to dull the hunger inside." He traced the many scars over his right wrist. "Demon. Monster. Those were the names they called me."

A single teardrop fell to the rocky ground at Tsuzuki's feet.

Startled, Tsuzuki looked up. Genbu's reptilian face remained immobile, but beneath his hooded eyes was the glitter of golden tears.

"It was the same for us," he rasped. "Why do you think we abandoned the rich material world for the virtual Gensoukai?"

"You mean...you suffered the same taunts as well?"

"Long ago you assumed flesh to live among the plants you loved. You gave up immortality for the neverending cycle of death and rebirth. Some of us doubted you would ever return. Some even forgot your very name. But we of the Divine Four always remembered - for you were the first to summon us at the dawn of time."

Tsuzuki was so stunned by Genbu's expression it took several moments for realisation to dawn. "So this thing inside me...was never demonic at all?" A heavy burden inside him was lifting, slowly but surely. "But everyone told me I was a monster, an ogre...everyone but my mother and sister..."

Genbu did not answer. His eyes, firmly fixed on his master, were overflowing.

"What is it?" Tsuzuki rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand. He was about to weep as well, but not with grief. "Is the thought of someone like me being one of you so appalling?" he joked weakly.

Genbu shook his head. He lowered his head down in a reverent bow, then twined his serpentine neck over Tsuzuki's shoulders.

Blessed by their mingled tears, the rocky volcanic ground came to life. Where once had been acidic soil was now covered with a fine green lawn of grass shoots.

* * *

In the bedroom of his Nagasaki apartment, Muraki lounged on his bed in his yukata. With a lit cigarette in one hand, he watched the sun rise over the mountains surrounding Nagasaki. With his other hand, he idly stroked the grey cat that dozed in his lap.

"Moonlight is lost in sunlight," the cat mewed. "He will not return until nightfall."

"He will come." Muraki's tone held conviction without a trace of doubt. "When he realises the truth, he will come again...and again." Thin lips curled in a seductive smile. "I'll make sure of it."

The cat lashed Muraki's arm with its tail. "You give up too much of your essence to please him."

"I'm fine, I assure you. When we were alone in the hot spring, Tsuzuki-san demonstrated how my body is acquiring Metal characteristics. I survived a bath in water hot enough to burn without a mark." He idly bent one knee up to demonstrate. "My power is growing even faster than I imagined."

The cat was unimpressed. "You risk using up your remaining physical Metal reserves. The more your power manifests itself beyond your control, the more your intake must be."

Muraki shrugged. "It's a risk I'm willing to take." He took a long drag from his cigarette.

"You must take in more nourishment. Engaging in pointless debates about the method of feeding is a sign of ingratitude."

"The way I conduct my feeding sessions with Tsuzuki-san is my business. You are here to bear witness, not act as therapist, ne?"

The cat lifted its head to glare back at Muraki. "I too have a stake in your quest. There is little spiritual energy to be found in the blood of a corpse."

"Oh ye of little faith," Muraki retorted. He placed the cigarette to his lips, then removed one of the ruby studs. It was coated with sticky blood. "Taste for yourself."

The cat scrabbled furiously at Muraki's hand until he let it go. Using both paws, it caught the earring before it could fall from the bed and began licking it clean.

Muraki held his hand up to the light. No scratches or cuts from the feline's sharp claws. He had cast no spell to protect himself. He carried no barrier fuda on his person. His Metallic ability was no longer a power to be channeled when needed - as Tsuzuki-san had foretold, it was now an intrinsic part of his very being.

"Man of steel," he murmured to himself. He liked the sound of it.

He reclined back against the pillows, and took another drag from his cigarette. With eyes slitted against the glare, he watched the sunrise.

Two more nights before the full moon. Two long nights. After so many nights of frustrations and setbacks, his patience was wearing a little thin. How long would Tsuzuki continue to deny his true nature? Would the words from the God of Earth be able to break through his stubborn scepticism? It was difficult to say. For all his egotism, Muraki knew only too well that the shikigami had no reason to assist an outsider like him. Their loyalty was first and foremost to their master. If their master chose to remain in ignorant darkness, then they would faithfully fulfil his wishes regardless of the consequences.

And where would that leave him? Would all his plans come to naught? Would he be left a ranting fool, deserted by the one he sought to worship? Saagatanus's mocking last words came unbidden to mind:

_He does not...acknowledge you. Could this be...a false prophet? A traitor..._

Traitor was a charge he readily accepted. Once he summoned demons with samples of his tainted blood to hear their stories. But the Shion University fire had been his road to Damascus. After seeing the light, there was no going back. So he had switched his allegiance to pursue a higher god.

But a false prophet?

Muraki exhaled smoke from flared nostrils. He would make Tsuzuki acknowledge him - before human and demon, before his fellow shinigami, before the great Enma himself if he had to. Anything to silence the critics.

_He loves you in the same way he loves all things great and small, friend and foe, material and immaterial. His capacity to give love is great indeed._

The memory of Genbu's words made Muraki curl his lower lip in disgust. To be treated exactly the same as everyone else...what was the point in being loved like that after all the trials he had endured? He lifted his hand to take another drag of his cigarette, and froze.

He and the cat were no longer alone.

Tsuzuki's long silhouette leaned against the window, his slim physique accentuated by the sharp planes of a suit jacket. Against the glare of the morning sun, it was difficult to make out the expression on his face. His elongated shadow, narrow and still, fell across the white bedsheets.

Startled, the cat looked up as well.

Tsuzuki approached the bed, arms folded. His manner was brisk, business-like. "You must be tired, both of you." Instead of his usual black suit, he was dressed in the charcoal grey morning suit ensemble Muraki had given him the night before. In the crook of one elbow, he carried the ebony cane. The only item missing was the purple bow tie - instead, Tsuzuki had left his shirt open at the collar.

"Indeed." Muraki stubbed the cigarette in the nearby ashtray. Much as it pleased him to see Tsuzuki wearing the outfit, he wasn't sure he liked seeing Tsuzuki so fully dressed.

Conscious of Muraki's keen scrutiny, Tsuzuki pulled at the coat to make it straight. "I owe you an apology, don't I?"

"Most definitely, but you know how you can make up for it." Muraki began untying his yukata, his hungry gaze never leaving Tsuzuki's face.

"I don't just mean last night. I need to apologise for all that's happened since that very night we first met..." Involuntarily Tsuzuki's gaze drifted down pale nude flesh. "By failing to stop you...I..."

Muraki let the yukata slide off his shoulders. "You...?" he prompted helpfully.

The cat leapt up to its customary observation post on the nightstand.

Tsuzuki swore under his breath and turned away. "Enough is enough, Muraki! I've come to make an apology!"

"Then proceed, if you must." Muraki stretched out on his side like a lazy cat, head propped up on one elbow. "You and your elaborate guilt complex," he murmured ruefully.

"I'm here to apologise," Tsuzuki snapped, "for setting in chain the events that have made you what you are now. By failing to stop you sacrificing your eye, I sentenced you to a cursed life - one filled with pain and misery, despair and suffering..." He lowered his head. "A life as hopeless as mine."

"I regret nothing," Muraki countered. "If it wasn't for you, I would have surely killed myself. Meeting you in that park changed everything. You showed me how life can conquer death. You gave me a reason to live. From that day forth, I vowed to worship you and bear witness to your greatness. Regardless of my grandfather's involvement in your care, we were destined to meet, one way or another. It was fate."

"I never told you to kill in my name. I wanted you to be a...a guardian of life!" Tsuzuki twitched one of his shoulders.

The sign Muraki was waiting for - an indication of the energy rising within. "I made sacrifices in your honour, so you would grace me with your presence." He sat up languidly enough, but his gaze glittered in anticipation. "Your back aches, ne? Take off your jacket and let me help."

Tsuzuki shook his head. "But you killed so many! So many innocent people!"

"One was never enough to summon you," Muraki agreed. "The mightier the deity to be honoured, the greater the sacrifice required. Would you have come to me if I had killed only once?"

"Yes, if I'd known! If it could've made a difference, I would have come to you! But the Shoukanka only sends me to investigate when there's a series of suspicious deaths-"

"Your power was sealed, so you were deaf to my prayers. But no longer, ne? The Guardian of Earth has spoken to you." Muraki indicated the cane with a pointed look. "So demonstrate the occult elemental energy that is rightfully yours."

Tsuzuki placed his fingers around the cane's handle and drew it up like a sword. It gradually rippled into life, twisting and coiling like a snake, its polished shaft now ridged with bark. Small branches sprouted from its shaft, followed by small shoots and tiny leaves.

The cat leapt on the bed and scrambled over Muraki's lap to watch, eyes wide as saucers.

"At last," Muraki murmured, equally mesmerised. "My efforts have not been in vain."

Tsuzuki held the cane at arm's length. The sight of the living wood unnerved him. "It doesn't seem a part of me. I don't have any control over it." He tensed as one branch began creeping up his arm.

"It's all right." Muraki held out his hand. "Let me take care of it."

The moment Muraki took hold of the branch it settled into obedient stillness. Holding it in one hand, he slid his long fingers along the length several times. The branch creaked and straightened in his grip. The newly-formed branches withered. The new leaves curled and changed to red-brown hues of autumn, then fell lifelessly on the bedsheets. Caught in the falling debris, the cat shook itself and scampered back to the nightstand. The ridged bark subsided to form polished woodgrain.

Muraki darted a sidelong glance from his work. Much to his satisfaction, Tsuzuki observed the transformation with wide-eyed wonder.

"You cannot expect to master a power you haven't used in decades, ne?" Muraki held the wood out in both hands. It was a lifeless ebony cane again. "In three nights' time when the full moon rises past midnight, Wood energy and all it entails shall be yours."

Tsuzuki took the cane. At once it began to twist and curl to life again. "I don't know if I can wait that long." Suddenly he clutched one shoulder and let the cane drop to the floor. "I'm not sure...if my body can either."

An excruciating spasm of pain made him double forward. Two tufts of black quills erupted from his upper back. Ripping through the material of his shirt and jacket, the sticky blood-stained spikes tore their way free.

"He reveals himself!" the cat yowled. "He has awakened at last!"

"Only in body." Muraki remained where he was, his rapt attention on Tsuzuki's face. In the grip of physical suffering, Tsuzuki was a beautiful sight to behold. "Not yet in soul."

Tsuzuki clenched his jaw against the agony. Droplets of sweat beaded his brow. "You see? I can't wait any longer." He straightened up to look Muraki in the eye. "Just then...you used your Metal energy...to subdue the Wood energy, didn't you?" He attempted to be flippant, yet in his pain he sounded plaintive. "Do you think...you could do the same for me?"

The words were music to Muraki's ears. "You only have to say the word..." He hauled Tsuzuki on the bed. "...and your will is done."

A split second of resistance, and then Tsuzuki was sinking against him eagerly, willingly. He buried his face against Muraki's shoulder. His arms twined around Muraki's neck.

Utter capitulation. Muraki was dizzy with the knowledge of his triumph. A whispered spell against Tsuzuki's ear, and the seams sewn with charmed hair fell away like cobwebs. The fine clothes he'd presented to Tsuzuki were little more than flimsy scraps of cloth, impediments to the perfectly formed body beneath. With the same hands that restored the cane moments ago, Muraki clutched the mass of feathers and pulling them free, handful after bloody handful.

Seated atop his lap, Tsuzuki gasped and writhed against him. His nails curled into Muraki's upper back, a weaker imitation of the pain he felt.

"Shhh. It's all right." Muraki rocked Tsuzuki like a babe. "Now you acknowledge me, ne? Now you know." He plucked the tufts repeatedly with one hand, while caressing the nape of Tsuzuki's neck with the other. "Metal mastering Wood - this is how it should be." Once the quills were gone, he tore the remaining downy fluff with his nails until he reached bare flesh...and further still, scoring the length of Tsuzuki's back with bloody lacerations.

Deep down, he knew it was futile. Tsuzuki would heal, and the cuts would vanish. No evidence of his mastery would remain. But he didn't care. Even if his flesh did heal, he was determined to leave an indelible impression in Tsuzuki's memory.

"Only I can control you," he crooned. "Only I can tame your power. You are mine."

Tsuzuki stiffened, then grasped his arm. "Enough. You've done enough."

"Have I?" Reluctantly Muraki withdrew his hand. "But I must prune you now so you may grow and thrive later."

"Thrive into what?" Tsuzuki scooped up a handful of downy black fluff, his expression one of revulsion. "All these feathers...what use are they?"

Taking hold of Tsuzuki's hand, Muraki rubbed his cheek against the softness. "A manifestation of the elemental energy within you, of course. This is a sign of your reawakened powers." He exhaled deeply, and sent a few feathers fluttering into Tsuzuki's face.

Tsuzuki swatted them away. "Then what's going to happen when the moon is full? Am I going to be covered in feathers like some bird? Will I start laying golden eggs for you too?

Muraki chuckled. Tsuzuki's feistiness was part of his charm. "Not unless you want to." He reached through the remains of Tsuzuki's clothing and took hold of his cock. It twitched and swelled in his grip.

"Don't let me transform. Take this energy from me." Tsuzuki allowed his forehead to lean against Muraki's. "Is this part of your Metal mastery as well? Is this why I can't resist you?"

Muraki chuckled. "Not at all," he whispered against Tsuzuki's cheek. "This is one power that is all my own." He squeezed and stroked the cock from root to crown, setting an urgent demanding tempo. "I must feed. You will nourish me, ne?"

Tsuzuki answered him with a ravenous kiss. His tongue stabbed and lashed the inside of Muraki's mouth, taunting and exciting him in turn. "Don't take long. I'll be late for work..."

"Forget your 'work.' Your true calling is here with me." Muraki urged Tsuzuki to lie with his back propped up by pillows against the headboard. He left the feathers and dead leaves strewn over the sheets. "For years I have sought in vain to worship and glorify you in the manner you deserve. With my goal in reach, do you intend to cruelly deny me now?" He lay between Tsuzuki's spread-eagled thighs and grasped his erection. With parted lips, he suckled the sensitive crown and slid his tongue along the slit. The taste was richer than the sickly-sweetness he disliked in sweets - this was a complex mix of salty-sweet that lingered on his tongue, yet left a lingering sweetness that left him hungry for more.

He glanced up to observe Tsuzuki's reaction. Tsuzuki was watching him, his violet eyes narrowed slits. His chest rose and fell with his erratic breaths. His thighs were rigid against the sheets. He held one hand to his forehead, as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted to see any more.

"You call...this worship?" High-pitched hysteria edged his husky voice.

"Didn't you know? Your body is my altar." With that, Muraki ran his tongue along the twitching shaft. "I humble myself before it so I may pay homage to you." He lowered his mouth over Tsuzuki's cock once more. He used his tongue to soothe the nervous flesh, while his lips formed an O to create a firm suction.

Delicious. There was no other word to describe it. The sensation of Tsuzuki's cock trembling within the confines of his mouth, while his body writhed helplessly against the mattress...it gave Muraki an exhilarating high like nothing else. He was master over this beautiful body, and the energy-rich essence it contained. Once a remote god who could only be revered from afar, Tsuzuki was now his willing slave, held captive by a combination of skilled technique and insatiable lust.

Above him, he could hear Tsuzuki's soft groans and gasping breaths. Shaking fingers stroked his head, occasionally clenching his hair as the pleasure proved unbearable.

Ignoring the silent protests, Muraki swallowed the cock deep, then allowed the shaft to slide free, along his palate and tongue, past his lips. When only the head remained, he took a deep breathe in, then exhaled and gulped the entire length down again.

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki's fingers tightened in his hair. "Would you worship me so devoutly...if I didn't possess Wood energy?"

Muraki lifted his head, and allowed the cock to slide free from his lips with a soft pop. "Are you planning to donate your powers to someone else?" He shifted Tsuzuki's erection to one side so he could caress the testicles beneath. The way they shyly retracted beneath his touch intrigued him - he held one and gently gave it an experimental tug.

"No...I-I wouldn't know how...stop doing that!"

"Then don't ask irrelevant questions." Muraki sat back on his knees and reached for the lubricant on the nightstand. "You are your power - the two are indivisible."

"But what if I lost my power...or my power was re-sealed again?" Lounging against the pillows, Tsuzuki looked from him to the watching cat. "Then all your efforts to worship me...would come to nothing."

"Blasphemy!" the cat cried, tail lashing. "You dare insult the Light?"

"Hush," Muraki commanded. He didn't want anyone distracting Tsuzuki's attention. "Tsuzuki-san, you are not the same person you were when you first came to me several nights ago. You are finally fulfilling your potential - the same potential your twelve shikigami recognized in you when they chose you as master. There is no going back." He guided Tsuzuki's knees up and warmed the lubricant in his hands as he spoke. "Witness the miracle you performed on my own mortal flesh. My new eye and all my powers...I owe to you." Sliding his fingers over the delicate perineal flesh, he slid them firmly inside Tsuzuki's ass.

Tsuzuki arched back against the pillows, his entire body galvanised by the entry. Utterly helpless - and beautiful for it. "No...not all." He was gasping the words between panting breaths. "The kagetsu spell shrouding your heart...is not mine..."

Muraki twisting his fingers in and out, searching for that sweet spot that would render him speechless. "I am yours. You need me, ne? You need me...and what I can give you."

Tsuzuki shook his head, but his body betrayed him - his muscles squeezed Muraki's fingers, guiding him deeper. "Your kagetsu spell..." he repeated hoarsely.

With devouring mouth and questing hands, Muraki silenced him once and for all. Tsuzuki could never resist the pleasures of the flesh. Even as his hips bucked and his legs scrabbled against the sheets, Tsuzuki gasped and shuddered in obvious enjoyment. His cock slid against Muraki's tongue and palate, oozing its energy-rich bounty as reward...exactly what Muraki sought.

Muraki suckled over and over, equally drunk on Tsuzuki's essence and the glory of absolute sexual dominance. There had been others, many others, he had plundered and used for his own gratification - but none had ever given up so much of themselves as Tsuzuki. His victims had struggled and fought before he had broken them with a combination of seductive skill and brute force - their bodies were lifeless, little more than mannequins. The prostitutes had been compliant and willing, yet their manufactured excitement was merely part of the age-old business transaction.

Tsuzuki was different. Once he could be persuaded to put aside his token resistance - and it was laughable to find how little 'persuading' it took - Tsuzuki responded with a lusty enthusiasm that served only to fuel Muraki's own reckless passion. Undaunted by his ravenous demands, Tsuzuki welcomed it and sought more. Even as he drank from Tsuzuki's cock and finger-fucked his delectable ass, he felt Tsuzuki's hands on his scalp pressing down, forcing him to swallow more...and more. The hard erection filled his mouth, sliding to the back of his throat. The precome flowed faster than he could swallow. It was suffocating, stifling. He couldn't breathe.

Angry, Muraki tried to wrenched his head free. The edge of his teeth slid against the shaft of Tsuzuki's cock as punishment.

"Damn you...Muraki!"

The torrent came without warning, gushing forth with a force that initially made Muraki gag. Semen leaked from his lips, spilling onto Tsuzuki's crotch. Quickly Muraki tried to compensate as best he could, swallowing what he could handle of the rich essence of the final ejaculate. Liquid warmth seeped down his throat, into his stomach. He could feel the energy thrum within him, warming his entire body, making his nerve-endings tingle. When the initial spurts eased, Muraki used his tongue to coax a little more from the waning erection.

Beneath him, Tsuzuki shuddered. He covered his eyes with the back of one hand. "That's it..." he muttered. "I've got...no more to give."

Muraki lifted his head. The world seemed different to what he remembered: the colours around him more vivid, the lines sharper and clearer. He could hear his heart pounding, the blood roaring in his ears. He took a deep breath in, and the cool rush of the air filling his lungs made him dizzy.

He was reborn, invigorated...more alive than ever before. He felt every inch a new man - right down to his cock, painfully erect and in urgent need of release.

Tsuzuki levered himself up on his elbows. His chest still heaved with gasping breaths. "I'm leaving. You've got what you wanted." He brought his legs together and tried to sit up amid the scattered black feathers.

"Hypocrite." Muraki seized his knees and spread them wide. Tsuzuki wasn't getting away that easily. "Don't pretend you were doing me any favours. You wanted me to remove the proof of your power. Deep down you still fear the truth, ne?" He lowered himself against Tsuzuki, crotch to crotch, and began grinding his erection against Tsuzuki's lax genitals.

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki didn't resist, but neither was he welcoming. "I think you might regret this."

"You think?" Muraki taunted. He caught Tsuzuki's mouth in a kiss and pressed him back against the pillows. Pushing his way past parted lips, he stroked his tongue along the length of Tsuzuki's own, offering a taste the essence he'd just imbibed. No one could resist its bewitching allure - even its creator was not immune.

Initial hesitation fell away. Tsuzuki's slick tongue twined around his, seeking more of the addictive flavour. It thrilled Muraki...and excited him beyond measure.

"You're right, Tsuzuki-san. Two more nights...is too long to wait." Muraki hooked Tsuzuki's legs over his shoulders. With trembling fingers he prepared himself with generous amounts of lubricant. "If you won't let me offer the bodies of others as sacrifice, then I'll offer up my own. With this body I shall worship you...and unveil your full glory."

"I reject your offering." Tsuzuki shook his head, his dark hair spilling over the pillow. It only made him look more debauched...and even more desirable. "Save your energy, Muraki. Listen to me for once..."

Muraki knelt forward. He hardly heard a word. His body demanded release above all else, and he wasn't going to deny himself any longer. Grasping Tsuzuki by the hips, Muraki sheathed his cock in the sizzling heat of Tsuzuki's ass.

There was no struggle, no resistance - only the rippling spasms that seemed to welcome him home. The ease of it took his breath away. "My dear Tsuzuki-san..."

Tsuzuki groaned softly, sweetly. "We...we shouldn't be doing this..."

Muraki lowered his head to bite his inner thigh in reproach. He began to rock his hips in a slow steady rhythm, resisting the temptation to go hard and fast. Tsuzuki's body yielded so wholeheartedly, so eagerly, clenching around his cock as he withdrew, then relaxing as he pressed home...it was perfect. Too perfect. He had to clench his teeth and focus on his task to maintain control.

He gazed down at Tsuzuki laid out before him - gasping for breath, pupils dilated with passion, his entire body dewed once again in perspiration. A soft flush bloomed over his cheeks and chest, making his body glow in the morning sunlight. With one hand, he clutched his own cock, stroking it to fullness again.

Restlessly Muraki ran his nails down one trembling thigh. He gazed longingly down at Tsuzuki's cock. "I wish I could do that for you. Even better, I wish I could suck you off...and fuck you at the same time." He punctuated his phrases with steady thrusts of his hips.

Tsuzuki let out a half-chuckle, half-groan. "You are crazy, Muraki Kazutaka."

"You're responsible...for that as well. You've driven me mad...with desire for you." He increased his tempo a fraction, and watched his cock appear and disappear between the cheeks of Tsuzuki's ass. "Are you pleased with your handiwork?"

"Yes...no...ahh..." Tsuzuki trembled and arched against the pillows as one particular thrust found his sensitive prostate. Supporting himself on his arms and shoulders, he lifted his hips to aid Muraki's efforts.

Muraki clenched his jaw. Delicious tremors enclosed his cock, milking him, urging and rewarding him. What uninhibited generosity. What eagerness to please.

_His capacity to give love is great indeed._

Again Genbu's words taunted him, incensed him. The thought of Tsuzuki giving anyone the same pleasure made him mad.

He adjusted the angle of lean hips and long legs so his cock slid deeper. "Only I can worship you this way...which is why you must love me the most. No one else can make you come alive...or satisfy you so completely, ne?"

"Mmm..." Watching him through eyes slitted in pleasure, Tsuzuki matched him thrust for thrust. "Maybe..."

Muraki hissed. Tsuzuki's movements were making him lose his train of thought. He bowed his head so Tsuzuki couldn't see his weakness. "Your lascivious body makes a liar out of you. You love it when I fuck you. You love it more than anything else in the world. Say it." He slowed his rhythm a fraction, and focused on making each penetration more deeper, more intimate.

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki arched, his body galvanised by ecstasy. In his stroking hand, his cock was now fully erect, precome oozing from the slit. The warm wet heat of his insides tightened around Muraki's throbbing erection, creating a delicious velvet suction that drew Muraki irresistably to the brink of losing control.

Muraki exhaled sharply. "Say how much you love this...and I'll give you what you want. Say it!" He leaned forward and made one deep thrust to make his point.

Tsuzuki grasped his shoulders. His nails dug in Muraki's flesh like talons. His eyes were screwed shut. Sweat beaded his brow. There was a rustling sound...and a new growth of dark feathers slid out from behind his back and shoulders. These were glossy like a raven's wing, aligned in neat layers that fanned out against the rumpled sheets.

Muraki's jealous anger receded in the face of such ethereal beauty. "At last..." He reached out to touch them reverently. "I've never seen anything so beautiful."

"Remove them," Tsuzuki whispered. "They're disgusting, abhorrent...a mark of the fallen. I don't want to be seen like this." He buried his head against Muraki's shoulder.

"No. This is the mark of the chosen - the one who will rise above all." Muraki thrust deeply again.

"Ohh..." Stymied by the weight of Tsuzuki's body against the mattress, the black feathers quivered and rustled.

Muraki withdrew and tumbled them over so that he lay on his back. A bewildered Tsuzuki found himself on his knees, straddling Muraki's crotch. A crown of feathers adorned each of his shoulders like epaulettes, ruffling up of their own volition.

Muraki's grip was ironclad. There was no escape.

"Muraki, let me go-"

Muraki arched up with his pelvis. His cock slid along the cleft of Tsuzuki's buttocks, searching for entry.

"Please-"

Tsuzuki's twitching muscles gave him away. A slight adjustment to the angle of entry, and Muraki was sheathed once again in that delicious wet heat. This time there was no holding him back. With knees upraised and feet firmly placed on the mattress, Muraki surged and bucked like a wild horse. Impaled atop him, Tsuzuki had little choice but to ride out each of Muraki's ruthless thrusts.

Which he did - like a natural. He rose and fell in perfect counterpoint, lifting himself up as Muraki withdrew, only to drive himself down as Muraki rose up. His hands clutched Muraki's damp torso and ribcage, his thumbs circling hard nipples. His head was lowered, but his violet gaze glittered beneath his fringe of dark hair. With each thrust of Muraki's cock, the feathers multiplied and fanned out behind him.

Muraki was exultant. For years he had sought recognition in vain. He had been forgotten, ignored, rejected and despised by his idol. But in this primitive union of bodies, Tsuzuki was truly his. Perhaps he would never be loved any more than the rest...but it gave Muraki savage satisfaction knowing only he could make Tsuzuki transform.

"Rise!" he growled. The physical toil was beginning to tell on him. The rhythm of his thrusts grew jerky and erratic. Sweat trickled along the length of his torso. "Rise for me!"

Concern flashed in Tsuzuki's expression. "You're overdoing it..."

"Rise!" In a frenzy of motion, Muraki pounded himself into Tsuzuki with a series of fierce driving thrusts that made flesh slap against flesh. Pity was the last thing he wanted. The surge towards climax was building within him, the frustrated ache in his groin a physical manifestation of his own wounded pride. But with each thrust, the ache receded, and the waves of pleasure steadily grew. It washed over the anger and resentment and envy, and briefly replaced it with one single overriding objective.

Union - the fusion of two flawed halves into a perfect whole.

Muraki closed his eyes. He imagined he had wings of his own, long feathered limbs extending from his shoulder blades. He imagined using them to glide on an updraft of pleasure that led to the incinerating heat of the sun itself. Every single muscle in his body was straining for it, reaching higher and higher...

Tsuzuki groaned. Two budding wings fanned out from his back and shoulders, fluttering nervously. He rode Muraki harder than ever, the muscles of his ass squeezing and milking Muraki's erection - urging him to give up its precious reward.

With a groan of his own, Muraki gave in. He emptied his seed with a single thrust, every muscle tense, his entire body as taut as a wire.

Above him, Tsuzuki threw back his head. Two black wings sprouted out and up, powered by new muscle, supported by growing skeletal bone, flexing and extending as joints became active. Each wing extended to its full length, almost two metres above their owner's head. Gleaming black feathers were neatly arrayed - down and covert feathers nearer the bone, long primary feathers fanning out to the tip. Each of them quivered and trembled, so that the wing appeared to shimmer in the sunlight. The sound of their rustling reminded Muraki of tree leaves gripped by a gust of wind.

Muraki eased his body back onto the mattress. His legs felt like jelly, so he let his knees fall where they pleased. He was utterly spent. But it was worth it to see Tsuzuki like this - his true power unlocked and laid bare for all the world to see. The awareness of his identity and the responsibilities it entailed would follow soon enough.

The wings flapped once, then swept behind his back with a sharp swish of black feathers. A flurry of fluffy black down rained down on Muraki. The cat pawed at the few stray feathers that blew its way.

Tsuzuki came back to himself in degrees. He lowered his head and opened his eyes. He took in the vision of Muraki sprawled beneath him, and the feathers blanketing him. Quickly he dismounted to sit beside him on the bed, face covered in his hands.

To Muraki, he was like a newly fallen angel ashamed of its fate. Absolutely adorable.

"Tsk tsk! There's no hiding now." He tugged Tsuzuki's hands away, a little surprised at the effort required. The climax really had taken a lot out of him. "Don't be ashamed. Take a look at yourself. This is what you truly are."

Tsuzuki's hands slid down to his mouth. Shadows lingered around his fearful eyes, seemingly at odds with the sunlight streaming through the bedroom. "You once accused me...of being inhuman."

"Something other than human," Muraki amended. "Something special. Something far, far superior to mortal humans." Muraki's fingertips brushed the tips of glossy black primary and secondary wing feathers. The entire wing trembled at his touch. "And you are, ne? Just take a look at yourself."

Tsuzuki glanced over his left shoulder, then the right. His hands were clutched nervously together, as if he feared even the briefest contact with the strange appendages. "They look...unnatural...sinister..."

"Unnatural? How can one who can call on Wood to do his bidding consider himself unnatural? You are Nature itself. Your energy sustains and supports all living things. No, these wings are a part of you."

"They remind me of Saagatanus. I first wore them when he took control of my body-"

"Silence!" Muraki seized his hand. "With these hands you defeated him! Do not speak of him again!" He kissed the back of it. "All he did was channel his Fire energy within you. The regeneration cycle was set in motion, and thus your wings sprouted. I did something similar when I channelled my Metal energy within you to generate a Water attack. The damned dog took advantage of your guilt and ignorance by making them sprout, then maligning their divine nature. That is all."

"This isn't a cursed mark? It's not a sign of the damned?" Tsuzuki didn't quite believe - it was there in his troubled expression.

"Not at all." Muraki nibbled Tsuzuki's fingers. His intent was half-amorous, half-serious. His body felt lethargic and heavy, every muscle exhausted. Perhaps he could regain some energy by drawing them from Tsuzuki's fingertips. "These wings are a manifestation of your unleashed power. They are yours, and yours alone."

"Mine," Tsuzuki repeated. He looked at them again, disturbed. He shrugged his shoulders to see if he could make them move - nothing. He extended his arms wide - nothing. He bent his elbows to his sides and quickly flapped his arms up and down like a chicken - still nothing.

Muraki couldn't believe his eyes. It would've been hilarious if the actions weren't so profane. "Enough of that!" He sat up and shook Tsuzuki by the arm. "Are you mocking the sacred symbol of your strength? Are you belittling the majesty of your own powers?"

Tsuzuki was a little startled, yet unrepentant. "No, I want to see if they work - and they don't. If I don't know how they work, these wings can't be mine."

"They are yours! You've forgotten how to use them because you allowed Enma to seal your powers when you were first brought before JuOhCho for judgement all those years ago. That was the only way he could take you, God of Wood, the bearer of Life, and transform you into the finest harbinger of Death!" Muraki winced as a wave of dizziness came over him, but continued anyway. "He knew the four Major shikigami who govern the elements would flock to serve you - sealed or unsealed, they would have no trouble recognising one of their own kind. Hence Suzaku, Souryuu, Byakko and Genbu, the four who once brought life into the world, now effectively serve Enma, through you, to take life away! Tell me why you allow such blasphemy to occur!"

Tsuzuki bowed his head. "JuOhCho decreed that I serve as a shinigami as penance for my sins. I was responsible for the massacre of an entire village: not just men, but women and children as well. You may think you have many deaths to your name, but there are hundreds of people who died cursing mine."

"Really?" Muraki reclined back against the headboard. Sitting up was too tiring for him, but he wanted to hear more. "Do you recall what happened?"

"I...I don't remember well. There was a drought. Crops failed, followed by a famine. Disease spread through our village. My family alone was spared. We were accused of bringing ill fortune onto the village." His black wings twitched and trembled, mirroring his agitation. "They came after us. They murdered my mother, then my sister...and the next thing I remember, they were lying on the ground, every one of them dead. I don't remember how. I don't think I want to remember." He covered his eyes. "Maybe Enma was right to seal me. If sealing my power is the only way to prevent this happening again-"

"Nonsense! Saagatanus still managed to break your seal and use your power against you, ne? Even I managed to manipulate you in Kyoto by planting doubts in your mind - doubts that thrived because of your fear and ignorance. This seal has caused you nothing but needless anguish and pain, for this Wood energy is an integral part of who you are! Your shikigami serve you with unquestioning loyalty because of it! Humans and demons are drawn to you because of it! Without your power, you are little more than a terrified, cowering shadow of your true self! Is that how you want to remain for all eternity?"

Tsuzuki dropped his hand. "I don't know..." The wings dropped down and folded against his back. "I guess not. You won't allow me to remain unchanged in any case. Unsealing me has been your goal the whole time." He regarded Muraki steadily. "Sometimes I wonder which matters the most to you: me or my power?"

"You are your power - they are one and the same," Muraki retorted. "Including these lovely wings. You move them unconsciously, you know. You must learn to use your mind, not your muscles. Come, let me examine them."

Tsuzuki bent his head in concentration. Slowly one wing extended halfway, then swung towards Muraki.

Muraki was entranced. He stroked along the smaller covert and down feathers up to thin muscle and delicate bone. He gently grasped the limb and extended it wide so that the primary and secondary feathers fanned out before him.

"Does it please you?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Very much," Muraki whispered. He stroked the alula feathers that concealed the thumb joint, then back along the limb itself, feeling each and every joint he could find. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. Come, let me examine the other wing."

Tsuzuki obliged. Both his wings were curled forward, the feathers spilling over Muraki's shoulders in a feathery embrace. "Am I more pleasing with them than without them?"

"Indeed you are...much, much more pleasing." Muraki rubbed his cheek against them like a contented cat, then leaned forward to run his lips against the coverlet feathers draping the skeletal frame. Their silken texture entranced him.

So lost was he in tactile bliss he failed to see the tension in Tsuzuki's unhappy face.

Muraki nuzzled the inside of one black wing where it joined Tsuzuki's shoulder blade. He could feel the nervous twitching of delicate muscles. "Ticklish?" He exhaled sharply, and smiled when the feathers ruffled against his face.

"A little." Tsuzuki flapped the wing until Muraki let it go. "I have to go back now."

"Hmmph." Muraki reclined back against the headboard, too weary to fight. "Very well, go back to Meifu. Show off your beautiful wings to them, and see how they receive you. Discover for yourself if they will truly accept you for what you are." He lifted his arms above his head and stretched, a long languorous movement that flaunted his lean physique.

Tsuzuki's stare was longing. His wings lifted slightly behind his back, like a bird eager to take flight.

"Or you could stay here with me." Muraki shifted down the bed so he lounged on the pillows. "Lie with me and shelter me with your wings. Here in my arms you will always find a home. Only I can worship and adore you in the manner you deserve, for I have borne witness to the real you." He gazed up at Tsuzuki through seductive half-closed eyes. "The choice is yours."

Muraki sighed. His eyelids felt so heavy. He was tired, so utterly tired. But he felt confident he had argued his case well. Even if Tsuzuki chose to return to Meifu temporarily, he would come back again soon. Of that, Muraki was certain. They had shared in a communion of blood. Tsuzuki was awakening, and would depend on him more than ever...

For a god without his followers was no god at all.

* * *

Tsuzuki looked at the black wings again - twin mounds that peered over each shoulder in silent accusation of his lustful conduct. How was he going to conceal them beneath his clothes? Even when laid against his back, they made him appear like some grotesque humpback. His colleagues in the Shoukanka would know something was amiss. Somehow he had to make them disappear.

He turned back. "Muraki?"

Muraki was fast asleep. His chest rose and fell slowly. The sweat on his body sparkled in the morning sunlight, giving him an ethereal appearance that softened his typical anemic pallor.

"He sacrificed much of his essence to worship you," the cat mewed. "He must rest now so he may recover."

"I...I never wanted him to sacrifice anything. I should've stopped him..." He looked down at Muraki again. "I fear one day he'll give so much that he'll never recover."

"But this is how he brings glory to your name."

Tsuzuki shook his head violently. "I don't want glory! I don't want to be worshipped if Muraki has to make himself ill to do it!" His wings shook and fluttered behind him as well.

The cat cringed before the flurry of black feathers. "So what is the best way for him to gain your favour? What offering would you like instead?"

"His trust. But he won't ever give me that, will he?" Tsuzuki's shoulders slumped, and the wings fell with them. "He values me for my power, that's all."

The cat huddled in a ball. "That is not true. He has spoken of your bountiful generosity and mercy. You are the Tree that bears the Fruit of Life. You will nourish and sustain those who seek sanctuary beneath the canopy of your branches. Through your sheltering leaves, the life-giving Light shines bright."

"Generous? Merciful? I'm nothing of the kind." Tsuzuki leaned over the sleeping Muraki, his face sad. "I've been blind to his advances for years. All his macabre talk about offering me corpses, and now himself - I never understood what he was trying to achieve." He caressed the silver hair resting over the high forehead. "You've worshipped me for so long. You've given me offering after offering, waiting for me to awaken and acknowledge you. Maybe it's time for me to give you something back in return." His fingers stroked a pale cheek, and lingered over bloodless lips.

"The Light is the giver of life," the cat reminded him. "What the Light takes away it will return ten-fold."

The words reverberated in Tsuzuki's mind, taunting him...and promising him. Muraki was weak and vulnerable - he was in no position to resist. He remained Metal-deficient, and needed essence more than ever. As the one who had deprived Muraki of energy, Tsuzuki knew it was his responsibility to make up for Muraki's deficit.

If Muraki's trust would forever be denied to him, then what was the point in proving himself trustworthy? Better to breach that trust and restore Muraki's energy than do nothing and watch Muraki decline into lethargic stupor.

He looked at the cat, his mind made up. "What the Light takes away it will return ten-fold," he repeated. "Remind him of that when he wakes up." He found the jar of lubricant and slowly oiled himself with it.

The cat's eyes widened. "He must be awake to receive nourishment."

"It's my fault that he's too tired to even open his eyes. By nourishing him, I'll rouse him awake...and then he can give me thanks and praise just like you said."

The cat sat up, tail lashing anxiously. "Yes, but he must be awake-"

"I'm trying to help him, believe me. Once I energise him, his blood will be rich in spiritual energy - more than enough for you to take your fill." Tsuzuki lay beside Muraki, then swept his wings forward so Muraki was enveloped in black feathers. "Once I'm done, I assure you he'll be wide awake."

"I know." Reluctantly, the cat lay down. "But he will not be pleased."

Tsuzuki snuggled against Muraki so that they lay facing each other. He nuzzled the aristocratic nose, placed a chaste kiss on his lips, then nibbled the angular chin. Muraki didn't respond, but his lips did curl in the faintest of smiles.

Tsuzuki stroked him gently from shoulder to hip - the way a mother soothes an irritable babe. He nuzzled the graceful long throat and felt the pulse with his lips. The rhythm was thready and fast, barely palpable. A bad sign.

"Wake up, Muraki." He ruffled his wings against the sleeping man. "If you don't need me to re-energise you, then prove it and wake up." The ticklish sensation didn't rouse Muraki one bit.

Slowly Tsuzuki nudged Muraki's legs apart with one knee. The lack of resistance was disturbing. Muraki was limp, his muscles non-existent. His vitality and vigor was gone.

Looming over him, Tsuzuki situated himself between Muraki's thighs. He would never have a better chance.

With his wings extended slightly for balance, Tsuzuki lifted Muraki's knees up. Although his cock was erect, Tsuzuki felt no passion for his self-imposed task, no triumph at being so close to fulfilling his heartfelt wish. His desire felt hollow and empty - driven by little more than physiological imperative.

He lowered himself down, his eyes never leaving Muraki's face. His wings fluttered nervously behind him, in preparation for resistance. If Muraki had enough energy to fight him off, then he would immediately retreat.

Muraki shifted slightly beneath him, and let out a sigh. The fact that he didn't stir was proof of how depleted he was.

Tsuzuki paused, his breath caught in his throat. His cock had twitched and hardened at the involuntary movement. Now it nestled below Muraki's testicles, nudging the cleft of his ass.

A hard mocking voice whispered in Tsuzuki's mind: _He'll never forgive you. He'll never forgive you. Remember the grudge he held for his despised half-brother. Deprive him of his control, and he'll never forgive you._

_I don't care, _he told himself._ As long as Muraki remains alive, that's all that matters._

Carefully he eased his way inside. There was an initial resistance to his entry, a certain tightness that made him hesitate despite Muraki's stillness. Was it meant to be so difficult? Tsuzuki changed the angle of his hips to see if it would help - and was rewarded with a sudden slide into the wet warmth of Muraki's ass.

Tsuzuki trembled. It felt good. He was surprised at how good it felt, despite Muraki's lack of involvement. He withdrew slowly, then carefully slid inside a second time. No resistance. A little tendril of physical pleasure unfurled within him.

But emotionally, Tsuzuki felt numb. Muraki wasn't moving, apart from the passive movements of their joined bodies. He showed no sign of enjoyment...or abhorrence. He might as well have been a sex doll.

A horrible idea struck him: Is this what Muraki experienced when he raped Hisoka? But how could he gloat about something so mechanical and empty, an act devoid of any meaning except satiating primitive lust?

Perhaps by doing this, he'd finally sunk to Muraki's level as well. Maybe his altruistic motives were little more than camouflage for his own base desire...

Tsuzuki froze. Even his cock was deflating, disappointed to be surrounded by what amounted to nothing more than a lump of flesh.

On the nightstand, the cat was watching anxiously, tail lashing. "Why don't you continue?"

"I...I don't feel like it."

"Do you prefer to be the one receiving nourish-"

"No, that's not it! I just wish...he'd respond a little..."

Muraki's eyelids flickered. Red light shone dimly from both of his hooded eyes. His face was otherwise blank.

"Muraki, is that you?"

But Tsuzuki knew it wasn't. This was Muraki the zombie - a captive of the kagetsu spell. But why was the spell being activated now?

Muraki turned his head. The eyes opened properly, revealing twin slits of eerie red light.

Like a rabbit caught in the headlights, Tsuzuki waited in dread for Muraki's next move. Invading his mind had triggered a violent response; violating his body would only evoke more of the same.

Muraki's legs tightened around Tsuzuki's torso. The muscles of his ass rippled and flexed, coming to life for the first time.

Tsuzuki gasped. It felt incredible. His wings lifted behind him in surprise. This rippling pleasure was like nothing he had ever felt before...exquisitely sweet, yet intensely unbearable. His cock was hard in an instant, and his body didn't need further encouragement. Mindlessly he rocked his hips in and out, driven by his own craven desires and the hard pressure of Muraki's heels digging into the small of his back, urging him on. He gripped Muraki's thighs for support. His partly unfolded wings made small pumping movements at the wrist and elbow, unconsciously mimicking his thrusts.

But this wasn't Muraki. The blank face, the glowing red eyes...who was this creature? Panting against the waves of sensation that threatened to drown what rational thought he had left, Tsuzuki watched Muraki's face for even the slightest flicker of recognition. He didn't want to nourish this zombie. He wanted the old Muraki back, the one he knew best.

"Muraki..." He could barely say the words, so slurred was his voice with arousal. "I know...you're there. Muraki...say something. Ohh..."

Speech was becoming difficult in the grip of physical ecstasy. Despite his expressionless face, this zombified Muraki possessed a lusty physical appetite that took Tsuzuki's breath away. His legs clutched Tsuzuki's waist in a vice-like grip. Those amazingly mobile pelvic muscles never eased their frenzied squeezing. Bemusedly, Tsuzuki realized being on top made little difference, for once again he was helpless in his enjoyment - overtaken by the zombie's avaricious demands. All he wanted to do was thrust over and over like a rutting bull, and achieve the release that was almost within reach.

He shut his eyes so he didn't have to see the glowing red slits. He imagined it was the real Muraki beneath him, permitting him this ultimate intimacy. If only it were true.

If only...

His body didn't have such reservations. The climax was sudden and explosive, a lightning bolt that stunned Tsuzuki to his foundations. He buckled forward and emptied everything he had in one fierce thrust. He threw his wings high behind himself like a parachute, every feather fanned out behind him - reflexively balancing himself so he wouldn't crush Muraki beneath him. A flurry of little downy feathers fell loose and floated around them both.

From the nightstand, the cat stared, mouth agape.

The zombie convulsed. The eyes glowed a burning red. His skin glowed with a slight flush. His lips parted in a grimace that resembled Muraki's typical sneer. Then suddenly his body went limp, and the red light dimmed to darkness.

"Muraki?" Gasping for breath, Tsuzuki eased himself out. "Muraki...are you all right?"

Muraki's eyelids fluttered open. "Tsuzuki-san..." he muttered hoarsely. He looked up, his confused gaze taking in the view of Tsuzuki perched between his legs, glossy black wings spread wide like a billowing silk cape.

Relief swept over Tsuzuki. The Muraki he knew was back. "You're awake! I'm so glad you've regained your energy-"

As if to prove Tsuzuki correct, Muraki jack-knifed to a sitting position and seized Tsuzuki by the throat with both hands. He hauled Tsuzuki up with superhuman ease, like a farmer grasping the broken neck of a freshly killed chicken. Without a word, he hurled a stunned Tsuzuki onto the floor.

Tsuzuki crashed flat onto his back, right next to the discarded wooden cane. The fragile bones of his wings splintered beneath him with a loud crack. The piercing pain along his shoulder blades was instant and agonizing. Blood oozed from the twin sets of lacerations on his throat, courtesy of Muraki's talons.

"What are you doing?" the cat shrieked. "He sheltered you beneath his wings! He gave you sustenance when you descended into the valley of oblivion! He is fulfilling his prophecy as foretold, so why are you-"

Muraki seized the cat by the scruff of its neck. "Silence!" He hurled the cat away as well. It hit the wall then landed awkwardly atop one of Tsuzuki's broken wings.

Tsuzuki hissed. He tried to get himself up on his elbows. Inadvertently he pinned his crushed wings against the ground, triggering a new spasm of excruciating pain. Rolling on his side only trapped one wing against his body, bringing more pain as well.

He had to move. He had to get away. Desperately he began to recite the spell that would return him back to Meifu - until a brutal grip seized his throat once more.

"You will pay." Looming over him, Muraki was cold, calculating, and utterly ruthless. "I vowed never again. Never ever again. I vowed to make Saki pay...and I make the same vow before you." His false eye shone white light.

Tsuzuki lay passively beneath him. He couldn't even lift his arms to defend himself. Simply shrugging his shoulders was too painful. His body was healing slowly - too slowly for him to escape Muraki's wrath.

"You...needed it. Not enough...Metal energy. I activated...regeneration cycle...in you..."

"Liar! All I needed was rest! I would have fed again on my terms when I was ready!" Muraki was becoming agitated in his anger.

"But you did. The part of you protected by the shadow spell...welcomed it. Welcomed me..."

"Liar!" Muraki tightened his grip. "I would never allow it. Never!"

The cat pounced on his hands, claws bared. "He nourished you! Leave him be!"

Muraki shoved it away. "You forget your place!" He glared back at Tsuzuki. "And you as well. I am the one who awakened you, ne? I taunted and tormented you in the same way Metal prunes Wood, for it is in your nature to thrive in adversity. Your growing power, your increasing mastery - you owe everything to me!" He locked his hands around Tsuzuki's throat. "I gave all this to you, and so I can it take away. Metal controls Wood, ne?"

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. Although his immortal body didn't need oxygen to survive, the pain and fear of suffocation was all too real. Vainly he groped at Muraki's hands without success...and then he fumbled for the ebony cane by his side, and gripped it with all his might.

The inert cane crackled to life. It sprouted branches of hooked thorns that grew towards Muraki like a climbing vine, twining over his arms to prick his flesh, reaching higher for his face. For a few stunned seconds, Muraki simply watched in complete amazement. Then he staggered to his feet, wrestling wildly with the clambering thorn bush. He sent one branch cracking into pieces as he yanked one arm free, only to find another branch biting into his wrist again.

Tsuzuki gingerly sat up, eyes watering, gasping for breath. The cuts on his throat no longer bled.

"Tch!" Muraki snapped off thorn branch after thorn branch. Each time he broke one off, two sprouted to take their place. The cane was now a mass of thorns twining around Muraki's arms. "Such ingratitude! I gave this to you as a gift! You dare use my gift against me?"

"I dare." Tsuzuki clambered to his feet, still clutching the other end of the transformed cane - now the main branch of a thorn bush. Both his wings hung awkwardly down his back - they were so badly fractured he couldn't move them any longer. "Don't assume you can control me simply because you wield Metal."

Muraki glared at him. "I don't assume, Tsuzuki-san. I know." With one vicious snap, he cleaved the thorn bush in two and threw them on the ground.

Tsuzuki was left holding a wooden stump. Somehow it seemed a curiously fitting symbol of their entire relationship.

"Shall I prove it again - using your wings, perhaps? You have no use of them any longer, ne? I placed them on you - and I can tear them from you as well." He stepped towards Tsuzuki, one hand raised menacingly before him.

Tsuzuki channelled his power once more. Hooked thorns grew outwards, reaching for Muraki. "If there's anyone who's ungrateful here, it's you. You wanted me to feed you and nourish you - that's exactly what I did. I gave you my essence, the source of my power." He glanced down at the wood. "You only want me for my power, right? Well, congratulations. Now you've got some of that as well."

Muraki's anger cooled to icy disdain. "If you believe that, you understand nothing at all." Without warning he turned away, pulled on his yukata, then went to the nightstand. "Get out. See how well you can rid yourself of your wings without my incisive assistance." He lit a cigarette with swift, automatic movements. Only an acute observer would have noticed the slight tremor in his hands.

There was a rustle of feathers, then silence.

The next time Muraki dared to turn around, he found his bedroom floor covered in bloody black feathers. Lying atop them was the cat, rolling in the feathers and lapping at the blood.

"Traitor," he muttered from between clenched teeth. "You will pay for this - you and him."

"You told me to observe and not interfere!" the cat yowled back. "Did I not tell you the method of feeding makes no difference?" It lashed its tail and returned to licking the blood.

Muraki grasped the bedside lamp, then reluctantly thought better of it. He picked up one pillow, took careful aim and knocked the cat over with one decisive thump.

* * *

In the Hall of Candles, the violet candle exploded into a spectacular torch of billowing flames. It surged up high to scorch the ceiling, then spilled over the top of the open glass chimney of the lamp, licking at the air with greedy tongues of flame for any oxygen it could find.

From a safe distance several metres away, Hakushaku paused in the middle of sipping his cup of morning tea. "Amazing," he commented to no one in particular. "I could've sworn it was on the verge of dying out for good." He rang the servant's bell.

A few seconds later, Watson charged in, fully dressed in fireman's uniform. "Shall I put it out this time, Hakushaku-sama?"

"Not at all, Watson. Someone has gone to a great deal of effort to tend this flame - a great deal of effort." Hakushaku let out a theatrical sigh of regret. "Oh, what I would've given to be a fly on the wall."

Watson couldn't imagine why anyone would want to be a fly or any other insect, so he kept a discreet silence.

"Extinguishing it now when it's burning with such vigor would be like ...well, like stomping on a child's sandcastle or stealing candy from a babe."

"I see," Watson said. "Too easy?"

"Why, yes, and most unsportsmanlike. The child would never forgive me if he discovered I ended the life of his new pet and playmate."

The violet flames curled down to lick experimentally at the table.

"Hmm." Hakushaku tapped the side of his mask thoughtfully. "Then again, neither do I wish to see the Hall of Candles go up in violet flames, no matter how pretty the sight."

Watson nodded eagerly. "Neither do I, Hakushaku-sama."

"Very well then. Clear one of my spare salons of all furnishings, and fireproof it from floor to ceiling. Let's give this greatly-blessed candle a room of its own."

* * *

In his apartment, Tsuzuki seized everything wooden he could find. Tables, chairs, cupboards, drawers, even chopsticks and pencils - he touched them all, and tried to channel what Wood energy he had left. Each object he touched took on properties of natural wood - polished surfaces became gnarled and rough, darkened knots formed budding branches. His feathers moulted around him, revealing the fragile skin and muscle beneath. The carpal bones of the digits crumbled, leaving behind the bones of the upper wings. His long graceful wings were nothing more than stubby-looking appendages rising from his shoulder blades.

When the wings refused to shrivel any further, Tsuzuki tore his bedsheets into strips, and wrapped what remained tight against his body. Beneath his clothing of shirt, vest and trenchcoat, there would be little obvious difference apart from a slight broadening of his shoulders. There was a persistent ache across his back that continued to trouble him. Any pain he experienced was usually transitory because of his healing abilities. But this one niggled him, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch.

He thought of Muraki and his long nails. Muraki would've known how to cure this. However, Muraki wasn't going to welcome him back. Muraki never wanted to see him again.

He eyed his sombre reflection in the mirror. Had he been too greedy, too impulsive? Should he have just left Muraki in his stupor and returned to Meifu? No, surely not.

And Muraki's shadow spell - the spell that numbed his heart to painful emotions - had facilitated their coupling. Even if Muraki refused to admit it, the kagetsu magic had risen to the fore to ensure his survival.

But who with kagetsu magic would place a protective spell on Muraki?

Tsuzuki had the uneasy feeling the answer was right here in Meifu.

* * *

"Hey, Tsuzuki!" Watari, with 003 preening herself on his shoulder, was bright and cheery as usual in his laboratory. "How are you doing? A bit late again, I see. Busy night?"

"No, nothing of the kind." Tsuzuki laughed at the very idea. "Just woke up late again. So what have you found?"

"Take a look at this!" Watari opened a folder, and laid out several graphs. "This one here - this is a sample of the hair analysis from my sample. See all the bars - the level of minirals are all in the normal range. And here's a sample from 003 - again, all pretty much normal. But look at the results of the sample you gave me." He pointed at a bar graph that consisted of axes, with no bars in sight.

Tsuzuki blinked at it. "I don't see anything."

"Exactly! No mineral readings at all! And the earlier sample from Kyoto isn't much better either. Now mineral testing with hair sampling can be a bit erratic, but to have almost no reading at all..." Watari scratched his head. "It's not compatible with life!"

"Could this be caused by some illness or disease?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Well, not a specific disease. The most common cause of a deficiency in multiple mineral is gross malnutrition." Watari looked at Tsuzuki. "Hey, you're not cooking for him, are you? I don't mean to be rude, but you know that your cooking isn't exactly-"

Tsuzuki flushed in embarrassed anger. "I assure you I'm not cooking for him, Watari!"

"Okay, okay! I was just making sure." Watari began collecting the graphs. "Anyway, the fact remains that he should be at death's door according to these readings. No human can survive with absolutely no mineral elements in their system! It's impossible according to medical science!"

Impossible perhaps, but it confirmed Tsuzuki's suspicions. Feeding the cat alone would not cause such extensive mineral deficiency. Somehow Muraki was converting the minerals himself - the physical Metal in his body - into pure Metal energy to maintain his powers. There was no demon parasite feeding from him; Muraki had simply chosen to cannibalise himself.

Supplying him with Wood essence seemed to regenerate the Metal energy within him...but did it help restore the lost minerals? Maybe it did. Muraki did seem more flushed, more healthy-looking after feeding. But it never lasted long, for Muraki was quick to either flaunt his Metal powers or empty his essence once again into Tsuzuki's willing body.

Tsuzuki frowned. Two steps forward, one step back. No wonder Muraki still looked pale and thin - and remained as sexually rapacious as ever.

"How did you know he'd be so severely mineral deficient?" Watari asked. "To be honest, a sharp-eyed doctor might have picked up on the signs: the pale complexion, the lack of hair pigmentation. But you don't have medical training, do you?"

"No. It was a lucky guess." Tsuzuki reached down to pick up a graph that had slipped to the floor. It was another bar graph with results in the normal range, but a little different to 003's and Watari's results. When he read the name at the top of the page, his heart plummeted.

"Tsuzuki, I tried but I couldn't stop him-"

"Hisoka knows about these tests? Watari, how could you?"

"Bon ambushed me last night! He knew you'd been coming to the lab, and he figured out I was helping you. He's not a fool, Tsuzuki. You're going to have to tell him sooner or later!"

Tsuzuki rubbed his forehead. "You're right. He of all people deserves to know."

"And you need to tell him soon, before others get to him first," Watari warned. "The fact is, there are others out there who are watching us - watching you. You can't expect to conduct secret visits to the land of the living every night and not be noticed."

Tsuzuki lifted his head. "Are you telling me this as a fellow shinigami, or as one with the inside knowledge of the JuOhCho information network?"

Watari chuckled, but his keen dark eyes were intent, almost sly. "Both. There's an old saying: When the cat's away, the mice will play." He shrugged easily. "Your playtime's nearly over, Tsuzuki. The cats have been watching you all this time, and your fellow mice aren't too happy either."

"I see. Thanks for the tip." Tsuzuki didn't try to hide the irony in his voice. "But what does that make you, Watari - a cat or a mouse? Or maybe you're the consummate scientist, observing us all from the safety of your lab."

"Nah, no baffling human subjects for me. Give me the predictability of my experiments any day." He waved his hand over a glistening array of beakers, flasks and coiled tubes laid out on a solid wooden bench.

One good jolt of Wood energy would send that bench heaving - and Watari's glassware tumbling to the floor. The thought of turning that idea into reality was tempting...too tempting.

He rose to his feet and thrust his clenched hands in his trouser pockets. "Then I'll leave you to it. Like you said, it's high time I spoke to Hisoka."

* * *

Thanks to Gengkotsuya for her help. A big thanks too for those who've kindly sent in feedback.


	28. Assignment from Enma

Thanks, as always, to Gengkotsuya for her assistance. Thanks as well to the readers who've taken the time to leave encouraging feedback.

* * *

Suzaku, the Guardian of the South, was waiting. Resplendent in her brilliant red cheongsam trimmed with gold thread, she waited by the watchtower overlooking the South Gate of Tenkuu Palace. Each time Tsuzuki summoned one of them to the land of the living, she would go to her little tower above the gate to wait.

Of all the shikigami who resided within Tenkuu's walls, none longed to be summoned as much as Suzaku.

Being exiled from the land of the living had hit her the hardest. As the Red Bird, she had to curb her powers the most. Gensoukai was meant to be a paradise of order and harmony. Such a virtual Garden of Eden had no use for the incendiary vandalism of Fire.

So she waited to be summoned every hour, every day. She waited with folded wings that ached with the memory of scorching flight. She waited dressed in beautiful gowns, with her long hair elaborately made up in a mixture of braids and extravagant fringes. Always waiting.

Tsuzuki would summon her soon. Perhaps it would be with a traditional prayer that brought glory to her name. Perhaps it would be an inchoate scream of pure anguish so terrible it would weaken the barrier between Gensoukai and the land of the living, enabling her and the other major shikigami to descend en masse and wreak the vengeance the world so richly deserved.

Either way, it mattered little to Suzaku. Shikigami love was not like human love. It was not dependent on flimsy variables such as character or behaviour or physical form. It was fixed, unyielding, eternal.

Which was why she never forgave Touda for nearly incinerating Tsuzuki in Kyoto. Foolish Touda. Touda did not understand what Tsuzuki was to them. But most of the minor shikigami had no idea.

Tsuzuki was not just a master, an occasional visitor, a supplicant who sought favours when it suited him.

He was kin.

At the South Gate entrance, the morning air shimmered and glowed. A dark mass appeared, gathering mass and form. The odour of dank soil and acrid sulphur filled the air.

Suzaku inhaled deeply. For all its virtual perfection, the scents of Gensoukai were a pallid imitation to the rich smells of the real world.

Genbu's basalt carapace and scales glistened in the morning sunlight. He arched his long neck into a courtly bow. "Good day to you, Sister of the South."

"Good day to you, Venerable Lord of the North." The ritual greeting came easily to her lips yet her eyes glittered with envy, for she knew Genbu had been Tsuzuki's favourite of late. "What a rare pleasure to see you in your battle armour."

"Thank you. It has been too long." Genbu lifted his craggy horned head to see her properly, and his scales clinked with his movements. "I bring great news."

"What news?"

Genbu bared his teeth in a smile. "We, the guardians of the four compass points, must make way for a fifth."

"Fifth?" Suzaku leaned forward. "Do you mean-"

Genbu nodded. "The Jade Hare's overtures have been favorably received. The Guardian of the Centre - the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end - is stirring once more. Soon he shall return to dance among us again."

Suzaku leapt from the watchtower and transformed herself into her true form. Flapping her vermillion wings, she swooped across the sky to spread the news far and wide in glorious song.

* * *

Hisoka wasn't at his desk. His denim jacket hung on the back of his chair.

Tsuzuki noticed the empty in-tray and the computer on standby. This was only a temporary reprieve - Hisoka would be back soon enough.

And he still had no idea how to explain everything. How could he tell Hisoka that he was responsible for creating the Muraki who had cursed and raped him? How could he explain the twisted symbiotic relationship he had shared with Muraki for the past five nights?

What, if anything, could be gained by bringing to light such horrible truths?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Tsuzuki went to his own desk. He rummaged through the drawers for a spare pair of black leather gloves. A flimsy barrier, but better than nothing. He couldn't risk unleashing his Wood powers on a rash whim.

As for handling Hisoka, he would revert to his modus operandi: grovel and apologise, and hope Hisoka could find it in his heart to forgive, if not understand.

The office door slid open. Gushoshin Younger swept in, feathered arms flapping wildly. "Tsuzuki-san! Tsuzuki-san! I tried to look up those things for you: a demon that uses light, any history of insurgency under Duke Ashitarote-"

"I remember." These were the questions he had asked yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago - a lifetime in which all the wrongs in all the worlds could be blamed on demonic interference. "Did you find anything?"

"No, because my database access was terminated! What am I to do? How can I be a librarian without access to the JuOhCho network?" He hovered before Tsuzuki's face in mid-air, a finger pointed squarely at his forehead. "This is all your fault, Tsuzuki-san!"

"Huh? How were you terminated? You've got a high security clearance, right? And you know your way around the various firewalls-"

"Of course I do!" Gushoshin Younger bobbed up and down, flapping even harder. "But I opened this old file that seemed relevant - and my screen went black! I lost access to the network! My hard drive has been wiped clean! All the work I've been doing on the demon database is gone! And it's all your fault-"

Tsuzuki held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "All right! Calm down a minute, will you? What happened again? You opened some file-"

"Yes!" Gushoshin stopped flapping. "The file must have been booby-trapped in some way...but why? Why would the Akasha supercomputer do such a thing?"

Tsuzuki closed the office door. "What file was it?"

Gushoshin looked around nervously, then perched himself on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "I found nothing about a demon radiating light, but there are records of a failed revolt against Ashitarote centuries ago," he muttered. "It was led by a demon that claimed mastery over Wind."

"A Wind demon? But no demon today uses Wind!"

Gushoshin nodded. "After the revolt was crushed, there is not a single reference to a Wind demon in our records."

So there had been in-fighting, perhaps an all-out war. Fire versus Wind - the complementary manifestation of elemental Metal. And somehow Fire had prevailed.

"So what's this demon's name?"

"That's what I was looking for when I opened that damn file! The name was never written in any of the records! The records refer to him as a dragon who answers those who call on him."

Tsuzuki frowned. "Sounds more like a shikigami than a demon..."

The door slid open, startling them both. Gushoshin Elder hovered in the doorway.

"What are you both doing? Younger Brother, you were told to bring Tsuzuki to the conference room! There's a new assignment in Second Block."

"Ah, yes! I was just about to tell him!" Gushoshin Younger lowered his voice for Tsuzuki's ears alone. "Tread carefully when you go in there. The Chief is in a bad mood, and Hisoka-san and Tatsumi-san don't look too happy either."

* * *

There were certain advantages in being late. No obligation to make small talk. No awkward silences while you waited for proceedings to get underway.

At the head of the table, Chief Konoe stared down at him like a judge ready to pass sentence. Seated on the left, Tatsumi gave him the briefest of nods. On his right, Hisoka didn't glance his way.

Tsuzuki quickly slunk into a chair at the far end of the table, the side nearest to the projector screen. As long as he kept his gaze on the slide presentation, he wouldn't be inflicting the sight of his face on anyone.

"Dim the lights, Gushoshin Elder," Konoe snapped. "Gushoshin Younger, distribute the background dossier. Now that everyone is finally present, please begin, Tatsumi."

A colour slide flashed on the screen.

Gushoshin Younger floated over to Tsuzuki. "Your case notes, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki didn't hear him.

Up on the screen, their faces magnified for everyone in the room to see, were three people. One was a man in his sixties with grey streaks in his hair, the other was a woman of similar age. Between them was a young woman in her late teens. With beaming faces, they posed proudly outside their family business - a ramen restaurant.

It was Norata-san and his family.

But why were they of interest to Meifu? Unless EnmaCho already knew about their connection to Muraki...

"We have received orders to investigate a case involving an irregularity in the Kiseki. These three individuals in the Nagasaki area have failed to die as expected, leading to a delay in the JuOhCho court proceedings. Kurosaki-kun and Tsuzuki-san, your task will be to find them and ensure their souls are summoned to Meifu for judgement."

* * *

The sky was clouded over by the time Tsuzuki and Hisoka materialised in Nagasaki's Shianbashi district. The air was humid and stifling. Cicadas droned in the distance.

Hisoka studied the map he held in front of him. "It must be down this alleyway."

Tsuzuki let him lead the way.

It was the first time Hisoka had spoken to him after their briefing. No greeting, not even a nod to say hello. In all likelihood, Hisoka would only speak to him when absolutely necessary.

Hisoka knew how to bottle up his feelings, but he wasn't very good at hiding them. He hadn't yet learned how to put on a guise of calm composure and talk about anything other than the one thing that was eating him up inside. Involuntarily he gave himself away in a myriad of little signs: his white-knuckled grip over the map, his lowered gaze that refused to look Tsuzuki's way, the ramrod straight back, the hunched tension in his narrow shoulders.

They couldn't work together like this, and Chief Konoe knew it. His stern unyielding gaze had said it all. The leash was being tightened to teach him a lesson.

Sending them out on this particular assignment was an ingenious form of punishment. The sordid truth of his liaisons with Muraki would be revealed. Most likely he'd have to confront Muraki himself - and after their last encounter, Muraki wanted nothing to do with him. Three innocent people would have to die. And when it was all over, Hisoka would want nothing to do with him either.

It was brilliant, really. The faceless bureaucrats of Enmacho couldn't have devised a more exquisitely humiliating sentence for him.

So, like a man being escorted to the firing squad, Tsuzuki walked behind Hisoka. Through the maze of alleyways they went, sidestepping the motorbikes and delivery trucks that rumbled by, past kitchens with clattering pots and pachinko parlours with rattling metal balls, until they came to a modest little restaurant crammed between a convenience store and a run-down bar.

The curtains were drawn, the doors shut.

Tsuzuki slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. A temporary stay of execution.

"Shianbashi comes to life at night," he explained, "so many businesses here only open up in the evenings. We might have better luck if we come back later..." Tsuzuki's voice faded off.

There was a definite spiritual presence in the air. He could feel it around him - weak at first, then gradually increasing in strength. It was sinking lower, close to the ground.

Unaware of Tsuzuki's distraction, Hisoka went up to the door. "According to the sign here, it should be open for business." He noticed a piece of wrinkled paper stuck to the door. "Closed due to family illness. Apologies for any inconvenience."

From behind a garbage bin, Muraki's large grey cat poked its head out.

"He needs you," it mewed. "His mind is in turmoil. He is in danger of losing his way."

Tsuzuki froze. "What?"

Hisoka turned around, looking at him for the first time. "The place is shut because someone's ill," he repeated patiently. "What should we do?"

"Go to him." The cat prowled towards Tsuzuki, tail high in the air. "He needs you. He needs the refuge of your wings." It rubbed itself against his legs. "He needs the guidance of the Light!"

Nervously Tsuzuki looked from Hisoka to the cat, and back again. "Can you hear...anything unusual?"

"Glory be to the Light!" the cat cried. "All hail its immeasurable brilliance!"

"Like what?" Hisoka asked impatiently. "A yowling cat on heat?"

An old man came out of the bar next door. Bleary-eyed and dishevelled, he lurched over to the restaurant door. "Is it still shut?" he asked them. "Shit."

Hisoka wrinkled his nose at the stench of stale beer, and stepped aside. "Are you a regular customer?"

"Yeah, I come here all the time. Norata's tonkatsu ramen is a great hangover cure." He squinted through the glass. "But the place has been shut for two days now. Poor girl. She must be doing pretty bad."

"You mean Norata-san's daughter?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Yeah. She came down with this big fever and they took her straight to hospital."

"Which one?"

"No idea. But she's always been the sickly type - heart trouble or something. Bloody miracle she's made it this far." The man shrugged. "Well, that's life for you. Only the good die young, huh?"

Hisoka's green gaze flashed. "While the wicked and corrupt live to a ripe old age?"

The man blinked, then burst out laughing. "Hey, it's not my fault I'm still standing after all these years!"

"Let's go, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said gently.

Hisoka strode right past him, chestnut head bent, cheeks flushed with anger.

"He is with them," the cat mewed. "Go to him. He needs you. He needs the nourishing Light!"

Tsuzuki stepped away from the cat. Muraki needed his power, that was all. Muraki didn't care about him or his needs. Judging by their last encounter, Muraki would be pleased to see the back of him...unless he needed to feed again.

But with the Norata family involved, an ugly confrontation was inevitable.

Ignoring the ache between his shoulder blades, Tsuzuki hastily thanked the old man then hurried after his partner.

"Hang on, Hisoka! Wait up!"

Hisoka slowed his pace, but refused to turn around.

Tsuzuki reached his side. "There's only so many hospitals in Nagasaki. It won't take too long to find them."

Hisoka didn't speak. Within the pockets of his jacket, his hands clenched into fists.

"That old guy had no idea who we were. It was just a careless remark. You mustn't take it personally."

Hisoka whirled on him. "Should I follow your example then? Put on a goofy smile and act as if everything's fine, when all along you've been investigating _him_ without me?" He couldn't bring himself to speak the detested name aloud - but they both knew there was only one person who could fill Hisoka with such active hatred. "Well, forgive me for not being as good an actor as you!"

Tsuzuki flinched as if he'd been struck. "I guess I deserve that. So how long have you known?"

Hisoka's accusing gaze spared him no quarter. "I suspected something was up ever since that morning tea when you brought in the sweets. Watari revealed the truth when I confronted him last night. So how long were you going to keep me in the dark?"

Tsuzuki hung his head. It was easier to look at Hisoka's scuffed sneakers than meet his eyes. "All I wanted to do was protect you from his influence-"

"Protect me? So you told Watari instead. Tatsumi never said anything, but it wouldn't surprise me if you told him as well. Which means the only person who was left out of the loop - the only person so weak he had to be 'protected' from the truth - was me." Hisoka's voice wavered a little, betraying the effort it took to keep himself under control. "If you thought I was so useless, you should've just asked for a new partner."

It was getting worse and worse. "I never said you were useless-"

"You didn't have to. Your actions speak louder than words." Hisoka's voice was quiet, yet brutal.

"I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." The words seemed woefully inadequate.

Hisoka must have thought so too, for he continued speaking regardless. "I never asked to be protected! I don't want to be treated different from everyone else because I'm younger or shorter or whatever!" He turned away and shook his head, embarrassed at how needy and desperate he sounded. "All I ever wanted was for you to be upfront and honest with me, instead of hiding your true self behind a grinning mask!"

The words, an eerie echo of Muraki's own, startled Tsuzuki out of his shame.

_You are the lord and owner of many faces, and like a miser you jealously guard each and every one._

"My true self," he repeated in a low voice. "I'm not sure who that is anymore. And even if I did, I don't think you'd want to know him."

"Oh yeah?" Hisoka lifted his jaw in defiance. "Try me."

A sea breeze drifted through the alley. It ruffled the strands of Hisoka's feathery chestnut hair and made his T-shirt cling against his slim torso, emphasising his youthful physique. Yet the unspoken challenge in his fierce green eyes hinted at something entirely different - a proud and stubborn spirit, fearless to the point of reckless abandon.

There was a bewitching appeal about strength of will married to physical vulnerability. Too bewitching. Deep down, Tsuzuki longed to subdue it, tame it...

_Break it._

Wariness crept into Hisoka's gaze, yet he calmly stood his ground, waiting...

_Waiting to be led like a lamb to the slaughter._

Tsuzuki looked away first. His throat was dry, his heart pounding. His shoulder blades itched.

"I need a cold drink. Let's sit down in a teahouse, and I'll fill you in."

If Hisoka sensed something amiss, he chose to keep it to himself. "All right."

* * *

Tatsumi sat at his desk. His accounts ledger was open in front of him. Figures written neatly in red ink lined the columns - debts dutifully carried over from the month before.

But for once, it didn't matter. The Shoukanka could sink in a sea of red there and then, and he wouldn't have cared less.

His hand froze, the ballpoint pen less than an inch from the page. The shadow of his hand wavered underneath.

He put down his pen, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Control. He needed control. Without control, his kagetsu powers would cause nothing but chaos.

But he'd been holding himself in check for so long. Too long. How long was he expected to watch and wait?

A knock at the door roused him to the present. It was Konoe, muttering about budget cuts and the shortage of stationery supplies. To prevent further misuse and waste, all supplies were kept in a locked cupboard. Naturally, only one person in the department could be trusted with the key.

"I need the key to the stationery cupboard. I need a new stapler. My old one is jammed."

Tatsumi retrieved his glasses. "Since you're in the office next door, you can come over here and use my stapler, Chief."

With a sigh, Chief Konoe trudged inside with his stack of documents. He'd expected to be turned down. He took the proffered stapler, then stopped short.

"I know you're unhappy about this assignment. Unfortunately, orders are orders - and these are from the top."

"I'm well aware of it." Tatsumi carefully pushed his glasses up his nose. "Did I raise any objection at the time?"

Konoe ignored the defensive question. "You're concerned about them, aren't you?"

"As secretary of the Shoukanka, the welfare of all employees in this department is my highest priority-"

Konoe's craggy features softened. "You don't fool anyone, least of all me. You worry about us all." He stapled his sheaf of papers with a distinct snap and handed the stapler back. "Some more than others."

The old man didn't miss a thing.

"It's not my intention to play favourites." Tatsumi picked up his pen. "If you believe I have been too lenient with certain members of staff, then please feel free to inform me."

Konoe went to the window. Standing with his back to Tatsumi, he gazed out at the rows of sakura trees shedding their pink blossoms. "I'm not speaking of Tsuzuki. You dote on him, naturally enough. Nearly everyone does. Mind you, he has no idea of the effect he has on us...which is just as well, in any case." Konoe cleared his throat. "No, I speak of the boy."

Tatsumi's hand froze. "He approached me for assistance. He was upset about his inability to sense Tsuzuki's emotions, and feared his empathic abilities were detrimental to their partnership. Under the circumstances, I felt it was my duty to bolster his confidence-"

Konoe turned around, arms folded. "By teaching him a little kagetsu magic? Were you given dispensation to bequeath your abilities to him?"

"I taught him nothing of significance," Tatsumi replied stiffly. "Merely a simple mental technique to limit his vulnerability to strong emotions, that's all."

Konoe sighed. "I can't believe I must give you the same warning I gave Tsuzuki. Your kagetsu powers have been granted to you by EnmaDaiOh for a specific purpose - to watch over Tsuzuki and keep his powers in check when necessary. Your failure to protect EnmaCho when Tsuzuki lost his mind during the Kyoto case has already been recorded against you. You cannot afford another black mark to your name. Sharing your powers with another without gaining the proper authorisation is asking for trouble!"

"I know, Chief. But it's a risk I'm willing to take for Kurosaki-kun's sake. I don't want him to make the same mistakes I made when I was Tsuzuki-san's partner."

"Hmph." Konoe's expression was sceptical.

Tatsumi began writing in his ledger. No doubt Konoe could see right through him.

In so many ways, Kurosaki-kun reminded him of himself: proud and determined, fiercely independent, reluctant to admit to weakness of any kind...and driven by deep-seated insecurity. Someone had to give Kurosaki-kun the encouragement and approval he subconsciously craved. Someone who understood him well.

Miffed by Tatsumi's silence, Konoe decided to retreat. "Very well, then," he muttered. "But remember your position within the organisation. Your guidance to Kurosaki-kun, although well-intended, is contingent upon you holding down your current post. If I were you, I would be paying more attention to my official responsibilities."

Tatsumi did not look up. Nevertheless, once Konoe had left, Tatsumi's shadows gathered around him, quivering in restless agitation.

* * *

In a small booth of an air-conditioned teahouse, Tsuzuki and Hisoka were drinking iced tea. With coat removed and tie loosened, Tsuzuki had downed two glasses of sweet apple tea, and was halfway through a third. In contrast, Hisoka was taking slow sips from his one and only glass of unsweetened green tea. He was in no hurry, for as far as he was concerned, Tsuzuki was the one who owed him a lengthy explanation.

Tsuzuki knew it too. So he had obliged up to a point. He explained his suspicions about Muraki's false eye being part of a contract, and their chance meeting in Nagasaki with Norata-san. He described Muraki's flourishing Metal powers, and his worsening anaemic pallor. He did his best to stick to the hypotheses and facts, while avoiding the subjective and personal.

What he did with Muraki was no one else's business.

"Is that why you asked Watari to test Muraki's hair samples for minerals?"

"Yes, and the lab results confirm it." Tsuzuki took a long swallow of his drink. "Somehow Muraki is cannabilising his mineral stores to generate elemental Metal power. It's as if...as if he's got the ability to convert the matter in Metal into pure energy."

Across the table, Hisoka was leaning his jaw in one upraised hand. "So in the end he'll die of mineral deficiency. He can then be judged by the JuOhCho courts, and all his victims will get the justice we've been waiting for. Isn't that a good outcome for everyone?"

Tsuzuki blinked. He wasn't expecting such indifference. "Err...you do have a point. But with his growing power, he's capable of causing even more chaos and destruction in the meantime. The authorities in the land of the living have no idea how to deal with him. We have a responsibility to stop him now, not sit around and wait for him to die."

Hisoka paused in mid-sip. "We?" he repeated dryly. "I don't remember being a part of this investigation."

"I was going to tell you - honest! But I needed to gather enough evidence to show the Chief - to convince him to reopen the case." He noticed Hisoka's sceptical look. "He didn't approve of what I was up to - he gave me veiled threats to stop. Tatsumi too."

Hisoka lowered his gaze. "So Tatsumi-san knew all along." With his straw, he jabbed at the ice in his glass.

"He had an idea, yeah. But I haven't told them everything I've uncovered yet." Tsuzuki cast an uncertain glance at him, then returned to his almost-empty glass. The heat within him had eased somewhat, but his shoulder blades still tingled and burned. "I'm sure he only kept quiet about it to protect you."

Hisoka crushed the straw in his fingers. "I already said I don't want to be protected by him or you or anyone! Why do all of you...keep..." The anger simmering inside him bubbled to the surface once more, choking his speech. "...keep treating me like a child?"

Tsuzuki resisted the instinctive urge to apologise again. Appeasement would only serve to inflame Hisoka further. He straightened in his seat, ignoring the way it stretched the sensitive skin over his upper back. "That's untrue. If we honestly thought you were a child, I wouldn't have taught you how to make your own fuda charms, Chief Konoe wouldn't have taught you how to create spiritual barriers...and I doubt Tatsumi would've trained you in the shadow arts either."

Hisoka's green eyes glinted with annoyance, but his temper did ease a fraction. "But I'm not an equal, am I? I'll never be on the same level as the rest of you."

"You haven't been a shinigami as long as the rest of us, so naturally you lack the same experience. But that doesn't mean we think any less of you." Tsuzuki tilted his head to one side. "Why does the idea of us protecting you from harm disturb you so much?"

Hisoka pulled up the sleeve of his denim jacket to reveal his forearm. "Where were you all when I was cursed by that bastard? Where were you when he assaulted me?"

Tsuzuki dropped his gaze. It was a question he had often wondered himself.

"No one was there. No one cared." Hisoka shrugged. "But that's been the story of my life. The one thing I've learnt is that it's up to me to look after myself. I don't want or need the false promise of anyone's protection, no matter how well-intended."

Tsuzuki inwardly flinched at the barb. Hisoka had thrown the same accusation at him during the case involving the violinist Hijiri. He'd tried to allay Hijiri's anxiety with cheery reassurances, yet Hisoka had pointedly refused to do the same. And he'd been right, of course.

But there was something particularly galling about being caught out four years later.

Seated in the same booth, they may as well have been sitting on opposite sides of a canyon, such was the yawning gulf of distrust between them. The five years together as partners, five years in which he'd patiently tried to win over Hisoka's trust and confidence - all for nothing. In spite of being master to so many shikigami, in spite of the power he held - both innate and acquired - there was nothing he could do or say to change Hisoka's mind.

So he didn't try. Instead he studied Hisoka's arm, and the faint red script that was visible to those with the spiritual awareness to detect it. "They seem less obvious than before, huh?"

"They come and go. When Muraki is near, they glow bright red. Then come the dreams." Sudden realisation made Hisoka sit up. "But I haven't experienced any of the signs this time around. I had no idea he was back until I saw those hair samples!"

"Good, for you've suffered enough already thanks to him." Tsuzuki finished the rest of his drink. "It's a sign that his ability to influence you through the curse is waning."

"You think?" Hisoka pulled up the sleeve of his other arm, more bemused than pleased with what he saw. After carrying them for so long, he wasn't ready to embrace Tsuzuki's optimism.

Tsuzuki slid the empty glass to one side. "I know," he replied quietly.

"But that doesn't make sense! How could his curse on me be waning when he's gained Metal power?"

"Elemental energy isn't used for curses," Tsuzuki explained. "Curses drain spiritual energy from the bearer, making them vulnerable to malicious influence. If anything, a curse is a manifestation of the spellcaster's pathological craving for the energy he lacks." He rolled his shoulders to ease the remaining niggle between his shoulder blades. "But Muraki doesn't need to curse people or draw on power from human souls anymore."

"So what does he need? If he's mineral deficient, then he needs a source of organic metal to stay alive. Something he can easily ingest and metabolise..." An idea came to mind. "Of course! Blood! That's how the original vampire legend started in the first place!"

Tsuzuki nodded slowly, doing his best to keep his features bland. "Good thinking. Blood is certainly rich in iron." Best to let Hisoka cling to that theory than consider other bodily fluids. It was close enough to the truth in any case.

"Is that how the Norata family is involved? Like you said, he knows them well, right?" Hisoka leaned forward, thinking hard. "Maybe he's keeping them alive and using them as a source of blood...which could explain why they didn't show up for judgement as expected."

It couldn't be. Muraki had been feeding from him the whole time. Why drain the blood of others? Why go to anyone else for nourishment? Muraki had been so needy, and persistent...and all too persuasive...

_I am yours. I must feed from you. Only you can nourish me._

Or perhaps he'd been the biggest fool of all to be duped by Muraki's seductive lies.

A sharp clatter snapped him out of his musings. A waitress was removing his empty glasses.

Hisoka watched him quietly across the table. The sober gravity of his features made him look mature beyond his years.

"In that case..." Tsuzuki did his best to pull himself together. "...we need to check on Muraki's other patients in Nagasaki. He might be using the goodwill he's earned as their surgeon to secretly drain them of their blood. Plus we must find the Norata family and discover what's wrong with their daughter." He managed a bright smile. "Why don't I look through the hospitals, and you get in touch with the Gushoshin about Muraki's patients?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. I'm coming with you."

"Are you sure? I know you're uneasy about visiting hospitals because you can sense the suffering of patients-"

Hisoka flushed in embarrassed anger. "But I think I've got it under control now! Tatsumi-san's been teaching me how to cloak my empathic abilities with kagetsu magic and-"

"Tsuzuki-san! Hisoka-san!" Gushoshin Elder materialised in the air next to Hisoka. "We've been looking for you two."

"That's right!" Right on cue, Gushoshin Younger materialised beside Tsuzuki. "We're going to tag along on your assignment!"

"You are?" Relieved as he was by their interruption, Tsuzuki wasn't exactly thrilled by their news. "What for?"

Elder huffed and folded his feathered arms. "Tatsumi-san wants to make sure you're pulling your weight, of course! He doesn't want you to be lazy and delegate all the work to Hisoka-san!"

"Hey, that's unfair! I do my share of the work!"

"Then why are you lazing about in here?" Younger squawked. "You should be getting to work now!"

"All right, all right! Settle down! I was just about to get moving anyway." He signalled for the tab. "I'm going to search the local hospitals for Norata-san's daughter, while Hisoka will check on Muraki's other patients in Nagasaki once he's finished his tea. Why don't you both use your research skills to compile a list of names for him?"

"Wait! I'm coming with you!" Hisoka threw away his straw and began gulping down the rest of his tea.

"Don't worry, Hisoka-san. I'll keep an eye on him." Gushoshin Elder immediately landed on Tsuzuki's shoulder, talons sinking into the fabric of his shirt. "Younger Brother, you go help Hisoka-san with that list. Use my computer terminal for the time being. I'll accompany Tsuzuki-san on his search." He leaned down to peer closely at Tsuzuki. "This time I'll be watching your every move myself."

* * *

Outside the teahouse, Tsuzuki and Hisoka parted ways, each of them with a Gushoshin perched on their shoulder. Although disgruntled about the delegation of duties, Hisoka's protests had been overridden by the imperious manner of the Gushoshin.

Tsuzuki wasn't too pleased either about having an avian chaperone. He'd been hoping to confront Muraki alone. But he didn't have much choice in the matter.

"It must be annoying for you to be sent down here," Tsuzuki said, as he strode along the canal pathways that led to Nagasaki harbour. Few people were out walking in the midday heat, affording them some privacy. "I thought you were pretty busy in the library."

"Spare me the fake sympathy! You're the reason the second library terminal is out of operation!"

"Err...yeah." Tsuzuki looked sheepish. "But I just wanted Gushoshin Younger's help accessing the demon database. I'm still on a library ban, remember?"

"Well!" Gushoshin Elder puffed his feathers out. "I suppose you're not entirely to blame. You don't know about the edict regarding the legal definition of a demon. It was made by Enma-sama when he first established EnmaCho, his official department in Meifu."

"Really? So what's this 'legal' definition?"

"To be defined as a demon, a spiritual entity must fulfil two major criteria: firstly, it must be parasitic; and secondly, it must only use Fire energy. Demons are the only entities of interest to EnmaDaiOh-sama because of their interference in the cycle of human life and death. Therefore, they're the only beings we're meant to catalogue in the database." He sighed. "Younger Brother forgot because he's been reading too much silly fantasy novels based on Western mythology. He now thinks all demons breathe fire and wave pitchforks!"

They reached a park with a breathtaking view of Nagasaki Harbour. On the left was the mouth of the harbour with its container terminals and ships, on the right was the main city huddled around the expanse of water. Facing them was the mountain range looming over the city and harbour - the same mountain range that limited the extent of devastation from the horrific atomic bomb blast many decades ago.

Tsuzuki strolled along the wooden dock that led to the waterfront, hands in the pockets of his coat. The cool sea breeze was a welcome relief from the heat. "I don't get it, Gushoshin. Why aren't you allowed to catalogue other parasitic spirits? Even if there aren't any around now, why not keep a record for posterity? Who knows, they might make a comeback one of these days."

"It's not my role to question the wisdom of EnmaDaiOh-sama." Gushoshin hunched his neck so his beak rested on his puffed breast. "I don't want to incur the wrath of Kinu."

Tsuzuki froze. "Who is Kinu?"

"The Gold Raven. According to legend, he is a great bird who embodies the power of the sun. He is said to be all-knowing and wise, yet as brilliant in appearance as the sun itself."

Tsuzuki began walking again. "Is he a shikigami like Suzaku Nee-san?"

"No, no! He's not untamed like the elemental shikigami! He serves EnmaDaiOh-sama, just like us. But no one has ever seen him, or at least lasted long enough to tell the tale. He is said to be the eyes and ears for Akasha, the supercomputer of JuOhCho." Despite their isolation on the dock, Gushoshin lowered his voice. "I'm convinced he was involved in sabotaging Younger Brother's terminal. The virus that attacked Younger Brother's terminal was named Pyrios. I looked it up - it's the name of one of the mythical chariot horses owned by Helios, Greek god of the sun."

"The gold raven Kinu," Tsuzuki murmured to himself. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put a finger on it. "So Kinu doesn't want you to learn about non-Fire demons either. I wonder why."

"I don't," Gushoshin retorted. He floated around in mid-air to block Tsuzuki's path. "It's not my job to wonder, Tsuzuki-san. And it's not your job either. You're a shinigami appointed by DaiOh-sama-"

"Am I? Are you sure?" Tsuzuki deftly sidestepped him and whirled around, coat flaring around him. "What if I'm not meant to be a God of Death? What if my appointment was a ruse to divert me from my true calling?"

Gushoshin flapped his little wings in agitation. "Tsuzuki-san, what are you saying? You were selected to be a shinigami like all the rest because of your persisting emotional ties to the land of the living! You agreed to the terms laid down by DaiOh-sama!"

"I know, but that was before I knew the truth about myself!"

"Huh? What truth? What are you talking about now, you idiot?"

A wooden post on the dock caught Tsuzuki's eye. "I'll show you." He pulled off his gloves and strode over to it.

"Wait! How can you accuse DaiOh-sama of tricking you? How can you accuse him of such treachery?"

Tsuzuki placed his bare hands against the post, and focused his mind.

"Hey, don't close your eyes when I'm telling you off!"

The wooden post creaked. Ridges and grooves appeared on its surface, gradually spreading over the entire surface. Its colour changed from dull grey to a rich dark brown. With a soft crack, a single green branch sprouted between Tsuzuki's extended fingers.

Gushoshin Elder stopped in mid-squawk. His lower beak dropped. He was transfixed, dumbfounded.

Tsuzuki sighed. The persistent tightness between his shoulder blades was easing once more. He smiled a little when he saw Gushoshin's reaction. "Not what you'd expect for a God of Death, huh?"

"Y-you...have the power to grant life!"

Tsuzuki let go of the post, and studied his hands. "To plants, yeah." His fingers tingled with residual Wood energy.

Gushoshin Elder levitated closer to look as well. "Only plants?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Tsuzuki started at the question. "I...I've never tried to channel it anywhere else."

Gushoshin's gaze was fixed on Tsuzuki's hands. His beady eyes held an intensity Tsuzuki had never seen from him before. It was more than avid curiosity. It was the same look Muraki had given him when his demonic cat had fled in terror from his hands - hands damp with elemental Water.

A look of hungry longing.

Tsuzuki held out one hand, palm up. "Shall I try it on you?" he asked gently.

The bird spirit beat a hasty retreat, but irresistible curiosity drew him back. Tsuzuki held his hand perfectly still while Gushoshin's beady eyes inspected it for any sign to account for the small miracle he had witnessed.

"Is this power really yours to give?" he asked in a hushed voice.

It was more than a question - it was a plea.

"Come," Tsuzuki beckoned. "Come to me, and we'll both find out."

"But...but I'm not dead!"

"No, you're not," Tsuzuki acknowledged, "but neither are you the Gushoshin of legend, who sat on the shoulder of every living human to document their every deed, good and bad, in preparation for their final judgement."

Gushoshin stared at him, unmoving. The sea breeze whipped at his little beret and smock, as if to tug him out of Tsuzuki's reach.

"Under EnmaDaiOh, you've become a librarian who documents what? Book loans? Don't you miss the authority you've lost?"

A keen light sparked in the depths of Gushoshin's eyes - a telltale sign of a forgotten memory rekindled. Unseen by them both, the floating shadow he cast on the wooden dock planks began to shift and change form.

"It's been so long...since anyone has spoken of the old days. How do you know?"

Tsuzuki smiled sadly. "Well, you're not the only one who's been sealed so long you've almost forgotten the deeds of your past."

Gushoshin floated closer. For a moment, he hovered uncertainly over Tsuzuki's outstretched hand. Then, as if making a painful decision, he squeezed his eyes shut, swooped past Tsuzuki's arm and settled on his shoulder.

"The past is the past," he said slowly. "Now I serve EnmaDaiOh, and so do you. We have a summons from JuOhCho to deliver, remember?"

"I remember." Tsuzuki lowered his hand and put his gloves back on. Although hurt by the rebuff, he wasn't too surprised. "Perhaps more vividly than you."

His gaze drifted across the harbour to Mount Inasa, distinguished by the cable cars slowly moving up and down its slope. Somewhere on that summit was Muraki's penthouse apartment. How many nights had he surveyed this city from high up there while held in Muraki's possessive embrace? Just the two of them side by side, watching the city lights and the rising moon...

_Each night you come to me, the moon swells a little more. As it waxes into perfect fullness, so my dreams approach fruition...and so will you._

Tsuzuki's breath caught in his throat. A blurry childhood memory was crystallising into sharp clarity.

_Please come down, Gyokuto-sama! I want to play with you! Please come and play with me!_

"Gyokuto..."

"Tsuzuki-san?" Gushoshin Elder was looking at him strangely. "What is it?"

"What...what about Gyokuto, the Jade Hare of legend who represents the moon?" Tsuzuki's voice was low and urgent. "Do you know if he serves EnmaDaiOh too?"

"I don't think so." Gushoshin cocked his head to one side. "Gyokuto's name is never spoken of in EnmaCho. Why do you ask?"

"Then maybe...maybe it's time I introduce you," Tsuzuki murmured, "and address him by his proper title."

"What are you talking about? What about our assignment?"

"Never mind." Tsuzuki pulled his coat around him. "You're right, Gushoshin. We've wasted enough time. Let's go find the Norata family."

* * *

In the waiting room of the intensive care unit, Muraki stood at the glass window, watching.

In an isolation room at the far corner, Norata-san and his wife sat by their daughter's bedside. A second glass window enabled him to see the couple huddled together, vainly seeking solace from the sight of her lifeless body.

Numerous cords and tubes were draped over her chest, along her arms, and coiled around her neck: ECG leads to monitor her heart, intravenous lines for fluids and medication, an intra-arterial line to monitor blood pressure. An endotracheal tube, connected to a pipe resembling vacuum cleaner hose, extended from her gaping mouth to a ventilator that made her chest rise and fall with metronomic precision, but bore no resemblance to normal breathing.

Violated in the name of medicine, she lived. But to the parents who had known her as a vibrant young woman, relatively well a few days ago, she may as well have been dead.

He had yet to speak to them. She wasn't directly under his care this time, so he was under no professional obligation to do so. The doctors working here would have explained her diagnosis and treatment.

But as the surgeon who operated on her in the past, he had a vested interest in her outcome. He didn't bestow his surgical expertise upon her diseased heart simply to watch her die of complications a few years later.

"How is she?"

Muraki turned. Tsuzuki stood by his side, arms folded, dressed in his usual funereal black outfit. On his shoulder perched the Gushoshin bird spirit, feathers all ruffled to appear bigger - doing his best to look as menacing as possible.

"Her condition is serious. She's in septic shock with a suspected case of infective endocarditis. Blood cultures so far have been negative, which obviously delays appropriate treament."

Obviously? To Tsuzuki, there was nothing obvious about anything Muraki just said. "What's...infective endocarditis?" The alien words meant little, but Muraki's voice imbued them with the loathing typically reserved for demonic names.

"The prosthetic valve I gave her five years ago has become infected," Muraki explained, his voice clinical and matter-of-fact. "I've been informed by the specialist here that vegetations are present on ultrasound - these are small infected blood clots attached to the valve that constantly seed bacteria through her bloodstream with every heartbeat. Her condition hasn't improved on empiric antibiotic therapy, which makes it vital that the bacteria responsible is found, along with its antibiotic susceptibility profile. Without those findings, her condition will only deteriorate further."

In the isolation room, her mother covered her face in her hands. Norata-san put his arm around her and bowed his head.

"How are they coping?"

"See for yourself." Muraki turned away. "I haven't gone in to see them. My surgical skills are of no use unless the valve fails, in which case her condition will be critical. At the moment, there isn't much I can offer them in the way of comfort." He moved towards the door.

A feeling of helplessness overcame Tsuzuki as he watched Muraki's retreating back. "And what about you?" he blurted out. "Are you...handling this all right?"

Muraki's hand paused on the door handle. "I'm well, thank you." He cast a mocking glance over his shoulder. "Good day."

Gushoshin Elder waited for the door to close before he let out a big sigh. "Phew! He's gone at last! Now we can approach the Norata family without his pesky interference! " He floated onto the window ledge, placed his beak against the glass and peered at the rows of beds with open curiosity. "I'll make myself invisible to avoid suspicion, and then we can go in there together. Got that, Tsuzuki-san?"

When he got no reply, he turned around. Tsuzuki was already out the door.

* * *

Muraki was striding down the busy corridor towards the lift lobby, his white coat swishing around him. Such was his aura of purpose that other people moved aside automatically to let him through, then closed ranks as Tsuzuki scrambled to catch up.

"Excuse me!" He dodged a porter pushing an old man in a wheelchair. "Pardon me, I'm so sorry!" He narrowly avoided a member of the catering staff and her meal trolley, only to run into a couple of nurses. "Forgive me!"

"Another dreamboat," one nurse said as he raced past them.

The other nurse nodded. "Almost as good-looking as the guy he's following!"

Aware of the commotion behind him, Muraki slowed his pace to let Tsuzuki catch up. "Did you have something further to say?" He didn't bother looking Tsuzuki's way.

"Yes!" Tsuzuki glared at him. "Why are you running away? What are you afraid of?"

Muraki stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you calling me a coward, Tsuzuki-san?" There was a dangerous undertone in his silken voice.

A thrill of excitement skittered along Tsuzuki's spine. Only Muraki could fill him with such bone-melting weakness using nothing more than the sound of his voice. "Y-You will be...if you don't meet them. At least say hello."

"Hello? What use is that to anyone?" he sneered back. "You have my permission to greet them in my place."

"It doesn't matter if you can't _do_ anything! As the surgeon who once saved her, you can give them so much comfort and hope simply in being by their side." Tentatively Tsuzuki touched his arm, trying to offer what comfort he could. For all his outward hostility, Muraki was suffering inside too. "You gave her five good years. You didn't fail, not this time."

Muraki's arm twitched at the touch. "You're doing this on purpose," he muttered. "You know the effect you have on me." He looked around, aware they were blocking the entrance to the lift lobby. "Very well." He seized Tsuzuki's gloved hand and began marching back. "I'll see them on one condition."

"What?" Bemused at the abrupt turnaround, Tsuzuki had to lengthen his own stride to keep pace.

"You are never, ever to repeat this morning's incident again."

Tsuzuki knew what he meant. "Why not? It energised you, didn't it?"

Muraki's grip was crushing. "It was a physical violation. You never sought my permission-"

Tsuzuki wrenched his hand free. "Because I knew you'd never give it! You never let me reciprocate! You never let me do anything for you!"

Without another word, Muraki turned on his heel and headed straight for the lifts.

"Tsuzuki-san!" Cloaked by his invisibility spell, Gushoshin Elder floated over the heads of the passersby to land on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "What are you chasing him for? You've got an assignment to carry out! If he's not directly interfering in our work, then let's leave him well alone!"

A lift full of passengers closed its doors. Muraki jabbed the down button again.

"You're right, Gushoshin," Tsuzuki made his voice loud enough for Muraki to overhear. "We have a summons from JuOhCho to deliver. Let's get back to work."

Muraki turned around. Behind him, a vacant lift opened its doors.

"A summons?" he repeated. He came towards them, his manner now stiffly polite. "I wasn't aware you were here on official business, Tsuzuki-san. I would've expected the boy to accompany you-"

"He's investigating another lead. He'll be here later."

Muraki's true eye narrowed. "So which poor soul is to be expressly delivered into Enma's grasp this time?"

Gushoshin Elder materialised on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "None of your business!"

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. In the moment of truth, he lacked the courage to look Muraki in the eye. But neither did he resist when Muraki lifted his jaw. "You must go back and see Norata-san and his wife. They need you there - now more than ever."

Uncertainty, then disbelief flickered over Muraki's features. He knew.

"I see," he finally said. "Still Enma's loyal dog, ne?"

Tsuzuki flushed. "What about you, Muraki? Still preying on others to feed your lust for power?"

"What of it?" Muraki regarded him intently for a moment. "Don't tell me you're jealous?" He sauntered back down the corridor before Tsuzuki could reply.

Gushoshin looked from one man to the other. "What just happened between you two? Does he know?"

"About the girl, yeah. I'm not sure if he realises her parents are to be summoned too." Tsuzuki tugged at his loosened tie. Sparring with Muraki always left him hot and bothered one way or another. "Let's go hear what he has to say to them. Maybe that'll give us some idea if he's really involved in their failure to show up for judgement."


	29. Dancing with the devil

Daaku Kurou, Karadin and Peppermint T have kindly drawn fanart for this story - please visit my site (in my profile) to view them. I've also updated links so all giftart works are hosted on my server (except one which is 404 at the moment).

Thanks once again to those who have taken the time to write feedback. I write really slow, so I appreciate it very much.

* * *

Norata-san's daughter was as pale and delicate as a porcelain doll...and just as lifeless.

Muraki's gaze went to the computer screen hanging overhead. The display listed her vital signs: heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation were stable for the time being.

Flanking him on either side, Norata-san and his wife waited pensively for Muraki's verdict. They had been told the grim news from the specialists here. They were already steeling themselves for the worst. But they desperately wanted hope...and they sought it in the surgeon who had worked a miracle on her once before.

"Keiko is a fighter, ne? She fought her way back after the operation, and she is fighting now." He looked at them then, his cool gaze firm and unwavering. "Do not mourn her before her time. You must not give up on her yet."

To Tsuzuki, cloaked in invisibility as a silent bystander, the words seemed brutal and unfeeling. Surely their grief was understandable under the circumstances.

But Norata-san seemed to draw strength from Muraki's words. He straightened his hunched shoulders. "You are right, sensei. Keiko is the brave one, fighting for her life. It is we who are weak."

"That's untrue." Muraki's voice was low and unusually gentle. "If you were so weak, then how could you have raised a daughter with such a strong will to live?"

"W-We just feel so helpless, sensei." Norata-san's wife hastily wiped away her tears. "If only there was something we could do to help her..."

"Speak to her. She can still hear, even if she cannot respond. She will recognise your voice above others for you are her family." Muraki took her hand, which was fidgeting on the side rail, and placed it on the lax hand of her daughter, which lay lifeless on the sheets. "No miracle of medical science shall ever replace your love and support."

She summoned a teary smile. "We'll do our best, sensei." She interlaced her fingers with that of her daughter's and squeezed tight.

* * *

Muraki left them alone shortly afterwards. He spoke briefly with one of the staff specialists on duty - an impenetrable exchange of jargon punctuated by sighs and much head-shaking.

Once he had thanked the specialist for his time, Muraki quietly walked out.

Still cloaked by invisibility, Tsuzuki went back to the girl's bedside.

"Maria Wong looked exactly like this," Gushoshin Elder muttered. Perched on Tsuzuki's shoulder, he solemnly observed the grieving family. "She was as white as a sheet too, remember?"

"Yes," Tsuzuki agreed, "but Maria Wong had the strength to kill on Muraki's behalf, didn't she? This poor girl is so ill she needs a machine just to breathe. She's useless to Muraki in this condition."

Gushoshin Elder ruffled his feathers, miffed. "Perhaps Muraki is draining her of energy. Maybe he's the reason this girl is here in the first place."

"Hmm. I'm not so sure. If Muraki wanted to feed off her energy, wouldn't he have given her a condition that prolonged her agony and suffering?" She was comatose, virtually at death's door - a poor outcome for any self-respecting parasite in search of a satisfying energy meal. "According to the Kiseki, she's overdue for judgement, right? Perhaps this infection was meant to bring about her death all along...and it's just taken a little longer than expected to take effect."

"Then what about her parents? They are overdue for judgement too. What could be keeping them here?"

Oblivious to their presence, her mother leaned close to her ear, murmuring words of encouragement. Her father sat in his chair, hands clasped together in silent prayer.

Tsuzuki turned away. "Once she departs, they 'll follow her soon enough."

* * *

Muraki waited for him in a public park adjacent to the main hospital building. Seated on one side of a shaded park bench with legs elegantly crossed, he smoked a cigarette. Without a breeze to stir the humid air, the overhead branches and leaves swayed imperceptibly. The cat lounged on the grass in front of him, basking in the dappled sunlight.

Tsuzuki materialised on the other side of the bench, arms folded, legs casually akimbo. Gushoshin Elder appeared with him, perched on the armrail nearest Tsuzuki.

The cat rubbed itself against Tsuzuki's legs in greeting, then lounged back on the grass once more.

Muraki flicked ash from his cigarette. "Have you taken her soul into custody yet?"

"Would I be here if I had?"

"You might have come to gloat over your success." He took a drag from his cigarette. "Or perhaps you're here to deliver a homily on the virtues of premature death."

"Did you mean what you said back there? Do you think she can be revived by the love of her parents?"

Muraki shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I think, does it? Norata-san and his wife have no need for my professional opinion regarding her prognosis - not when they can see the truth with their own eyes."

"I guess you're right." Tsuzuki kicked up a puff of dirt with his shoe. "It just struck me as unusual that a cynic like you would be championing the healing power of love."

"I am a pragmatist, not a romantic. Their love is all they have left - therein lies the source of their grief. I simply advised them to draw on that same love to strengthen their own hearts as best they could." Muraki placed the cigarette to his lips again, his gaze distant. "Whether their love can actually revive her is a moot point - but there is little to be gained in telling them that."

"I watched them after you left. You made a difference, you know. I knew you would." Tsuzuki uncrossed his arms and clasped his hands loosely in front of him. "Thank you."

"No thanks is necessary. You gave me a timely reminder of my professional obligations." He cast a brooding glance Tsuzuki's way. "But if you do want to demonstrate your gratitude, you could begin by ordering your feathered friend to leave us alone."

"I'm not going anywhere," Gushoshin Elder squawked.

Tsuzuki turned to him. "Gushoshin, please-"

The bird spirit puffed his chest out. "I have orders from Tatsumi-san to keep an eye on you during this assignment."

"Then leave the talking to me." Proof positive that Tatsumi didn't trust him - not that he needed it. To make it worse, Muraki now knew it too.

But if Muraki noticed, he didn't show it. He simply leaned back on the bench and took another drag. "May I ask the reason for this investigation? She doesn't have long to live. Let nature take its course, and she will be in Enma's clutches soon enough. Why is shinigami intervention required?"

Tsuzuki shifted awkwardly in his seat. He'd been wondering that too. "According to the Kiseki, the book of the deceased, she was expected earlier than this. We are routinely despatched to investigate such delays because they can hold up the JuOhCho court proceedings."

"Oh, we can't have that. Enma expects a steady stream of freshly-harvested souls, ne? Unripe or not, it makes no difference." Muraki's lips curved in a mocking smile. "As you know, demons value souls for their inherent energy - there are few treats more delectable to a demon than the agony of a captive soul writhing in torment. But what about the great ruler of the Underworld? Have you ever wondered what use Enma has for so many tasty human souls?"

"Enma DaiOh-sama's duty is to judge each soul. He weighs up the good deeds against the evil deeds with the aid of a crystal mirror that reflects a person's true self for all to see. Using such evidence, he decides that individual's fate in the afterlife."

"How well you have learned your mythological folklore, Tsuzuki-san. Enma must surely be pleased with you." Muraki stubbed out his cigarette on the dirt below. "I must confess, I always found that story more underwhelming than terrifying: Enma the great garbage inspector of humanity, busily sorting souls for recycling in the various levels of heaven or hell - the saintly ones in the first bin, the mostly-good in the second, the wicked and incorrigible tossed out in the other-"

"How dare you speak so disrespectfully of Enma DaiOh-sama?" Gushoshin Elder squawked. "Tsuzuki-san, don't let him get away with such insolence!"

"Shh! He's goading us, that's all," Tsuzuki reassured him. "Don't rise to the bait."

"Indeed." Muraki flashed him a knowing, mischievous smile. "You know me so well, ne? Well, considering all the time we've spent together, I would be disappointed if you didn't."

Tsuzuki grimaced, well aware of Gushoshin Elder overhearing every word. "Get to the point, Muraki. You've spent so much time conversing with demons that you're starting to talk in riddles like them. So what do you believe Enma-DaiOh is doing with human souls? You think he's hoarding them for some nefarious purpose?"

"I don't just think, Tsuzuki-san. I know. I've tasted the exquisite energy of human souls for myself. I know how empowering it can be. You've seen first-hand what I could do with an array of souls as my personal energy source. Our first meeting in Nagasaki and our later encounter in Kyoto were fuelled by the energy of murdered human souls, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember all too well."

"Well, just imagine what could be done with millions of human souls. Imagine if you were ruler of Meifu, and you had souls served to you on a regular basis. Think of all that delicious untapped energy there at your fingertips. Imagine accumulating it over time into one huge reservoir, then distilling it into its purest spiritual form. Who wouldn't be tempted to put it to use - just once?"

The leaves overhead began to stir, yet the air remained still. The shadows shifted around them. Startled, Gushoshin Elder looked around.

Tsuzuki was only dimly aware of it. His thoughts were racing with the implications of Muraki's outlandish insinuations. "You...you're suggesting Enma-DaiOh is no better than a demon!"

"Was I?" Muraki pretended to look shocked. "My apologies. I was aiming for an outright accusation."

"But he already has great power as the ruler of Meifu! He's created an administration overseeing the Underworld and an entire realm that mimics the land of the living, right down to the smallest blade of grass-"

"Except that they don't truly die, ne? They're trapped in stasis - like everything else within Meifu. It must require considerable spiritual energy for Enma to maintain such a closed system, don't you think?"

"So you think Enma-DaiOh is using the energy from human souls to keep Meifu the way it is and maintain his grip on power."

The leaves trembled and the branches shook. The shadows shivered below, making the dappled light disperse and coalesce around them.

Gushoshin Elder bobbed up and down. "Don't repeat his traitorous words, Tsuzuki-san! You mustn't listen to him!"

"Let me hear him out. I reap the souls for DaiOh-sama - I have a right to hear his theory as to what becomes of them." He turned to face Muraki. "So what's this energy that sustains the order in Meifu?"

Muraki slid his hand into the breastpocket of his trenchcoat and drew out a gleaming steel cigarette lighter. Idly he began flicking the fliptop lid on and off while he spoke. The clinking noise attracted the cat's attention. It moved towards him, eyes drawn to the lighter.

"His command of it appears impressive on the surface, yet in reality he only utilises a minuscule amount of its potential. So he settles with achieving stasis, while the greatest minds in Meifu grapple with the tricky problem of how he can harness it properly to do his bidding."

"You haven't answered my question. What kind of energy is distilled from human souls?"

Muraki's smile was ironic. "My dear Tsuzuki-san, I thought you'd never ask."

The cat jumped up into his lap. Muraki held it securely in one hand, and continued flicking the lighter lid with the other.

Tsuzuki studied it for the first time. This wasn't Muraki's old lighter. It was satin-polished steel - the Fire-blessed lighter Muraki had once spurned in distaste. As one who wielded Metal, he would naturally steer clear of Fire's controlling influence. But if he could hold it easily now, then his Metal power must be that much greater...

"Deep down, Enma fears it," Muraki continued. "He fears the repercussions of losing his tenuous control over it. He fears what this power can do when it is fully unleashed." Finally Muraki held up the lighter and spun the flint wheel. "Allow me to illustrate by example."

A single gold flame flared to life, then flickered. Its colour faded to brilliant white. At its heart was a small cone of pure violet.

Startled, Tsuzuki recoiled.

The leaves still shook, but the shadows weren't shivering any longer. They slowly drifted towards the flame, concentrating themselves into a single shadow beneath it.

Gushoshin Elder was hypnotised by the light. He froze into absolute stillness.

"Just as there can be no light without shadow, the creative life energy of Wood is not possible without destruction. Unlike other elements, Wood feeds off the other four to sustain itself: Fire to prune, Water to quench, Metal and Earth to nourish and anchor. That's what plants do in nature, ne? Well, procuring the occult elemental energy of Wood is no different. There are two possible methods to procure Wood energy. Firstly, one can activate the regeneration cycle of the elements and consume the other energy types." Muraki bowed his head in Tsuzuki's direction. "A trivial task for one who is master of the four major guardians of the elements."

"I won't do it. I don't want to increase entropy and destabilise all the worlds, especially this one." Tsuzuki looked away for a moment. "So what's the other method?"

"Consume the spiritual energy of an entity that is rich in Fire, Earth, Metal and Water - and thus generate Wood."

"What entity? Shikigami only specialise in one energy type. Demons depend on Fire, and you've told me how low their energy levels are."

Muraki lifted a quizzical brow. "Spiritual energy does not reside only in spirits. Living things possess a spark of spiritual energy too - minuscule compared to shikigami and demons, granted, but significant nevertheless. In their interaction with the material world, they are exposed to the material elements - and thus their spiritual energies too. Out of all living things, one species in particular is gifted at manipulating these material forms to its own advantage. This species has been able to control its environment more than any other, and proliferate across the globe to be the most dominant lifeform on Earth. Cull millions of them, extract each one of its spiritual energy, and there you have it - the perfect raw material to generate precious Wood energy."

Tsuzuki stared at him. "You...you mean human souls?"

"Indeed I do." Muraki flicked off the lighter. "Prized by demons, hoarded by Enma - there is no spiritual resource so dearly sought." He returned the lighter to his pocket.

"But...but then why hasn't a high-ranked demon created Wood energy? And what about you? You've gathered souls, haven't you? Where's your Wood energy?"

"Each human soul only has a minute amount of spiritual power. Millions upon millions must be sacrificed before enough usable Wood energy is distilled."

"I..." Tsuzuki was stunned. The implications were too horrific to contemplate. Could he have been an unwitting accomplice to such a scheme? He shook his head in denial. "I don't believe it. It can't be... Enma-DaiOh would never..."

Muraki's face became closed, shuttered. "Then believe what you like. You have your answer." Muraki picked up the cat and came to his feet. "If the God of Wood does not care if someone else usurps his power, then why should I?" He turned away, his coat swinging around him.

"But you've got no evidence! You make all these crazy claims, but where's the proof? How do I know this isn't just a conspiracy theory you've concocted to turn me against Enma?"

Muraki didn't answer. He walked away from the gravel path towards a copse of trees.

Tsuzuki pursued him, leaving Gushoshin Elder behind. "I've got no reason to trust you. You've tricked me the whole time. You tricked me about your covenant! I thought a demon was responsible, but now you turn around and blame it on me!"

"There are demons, and then there are demons," Muraki replied cryptically. "You assumed my covenant was with a demon to begin with - I merely played along. I knew the idea would appeal to your saviour complex."

"Aha! So you admit you're a liar!"

"No, merely that you're a gullible fool."

Tsuzuki gritted his teeth. "Why didn't you explain any of this when we met in Nagasaki during the Maria Wong case? Or when we were aboard the Queen Camellia?" He seized Muraki's arm. "If you really made a covenant with me all those years ago, then why the hell were you scheming to lop my head off in Kyoto?"

Muraki stopped in mid-stride before the copse of trees. "I...I didn't know." For a moment, he seemed uncertain of himself. "I had no idea my covenant was with you until you revealed yourself in the laboratory."

Tsuzuki eased his grip. Muraki has described him as a faceless, swirling black mass on that moonlit night - but why? Another piece of the puzzle that made no sense. "Revealed myself? What do you mean? I wasn't hiding myself to begin with."

"You have no idea, do you? You have no idea at all." Muraki's lips curled in that all-too-familiar sneer. "You see my dilemma? What would have been the point in explaining anything when you insist on playing the fool?" He sidestepped past Tsuzuki, then suddenly twirled around. "It would be easier to dance alone than with such a clumsy partner, ne?"

The cat clawed at his jacket. "What are you saying?" it yowled. "You must bear witness to the Light!"

Muraki held it away from him. "The Light isn't here. The Light prefers to hibernate in ignorant darkness. I'd have better luck creating a Light of my own." His false eye began to glow. "Now that's an idea."

"Blasphemy!" The cat wriggled in vain. "Do not speak ill of the Light! The Light must be worshipped and glorified!"

Muraki laughed and swung the cat around in a giddy waltz. His coat swirled and flared behind him as if it were light as a feather. Small eddies seemed to trail in his footsteps, stirring the fallen leaves and twigs to dance and twirl in his wake. With nimble steps, he glided effortlessly beneath the canopy of trees.

Tsuzuki turned away. Muraki was taunting him again, and showing off his Wind abilities in the bargain. But Tsuzuki didn't go after him. Their conversation had left him with some serious thinking to do.

Was the entire JuOhCho judicial system established purely to fuel an individual's lust for power, with he and the other shinigami as accomplices? As the newest shinigami, Hisoka would have little idea. But what about Tatsumi? Had he noticed anything amiss beyond the Shoukanka's debts? And what about the Chief, who had been in Enma's employ longer than anyone in the Shoukanka?

Watari's ominous warning came back to haunt him: _There are others out there who are watching us - watching you. You can't expect to conduct secret visits to the land of the living every night and not be noticed._

Surely not Watari. Watari was a friend...

Who knew the workings of the JuOhCho computer network like the back of his own hand.

Who knew about his victory over Saagatanus, and his nightly assignations with Muraki.

Who had too much dirt on him to be considered a friend for much longer.

Tsuzuki looked down at his gloved hands. If Muraki was telling the truth, then they held the key to both creation and destruction. No wonder Gushoshin Elder retreated in fear. On some atavistic level, he must have realised too.

Come to think of it - where was Gushoshin?

He looked back. Gushoshin Elder remained on the park bench, locked in a trance.

Tsuzuki started to go to him, then changed his mind. Quickly he pulled out a barrier fuda and held it between index and middle finger. With a whispered prayer, it transformed into a white swallow.

"Guard him in my absence."

The swallow trilled, then flew off.

Tsuzuki pulled off his gloves. The rest of Meifu wouldn't be happy when they found out. With his unsealed power, he had been a liability in the material world, and he would still be a liability in Meifu too. But they must have recognised his potential as a reaper of souls - why else would they have sealed him and retained him as a Shinigami? His ties to the land of the living were stronger than that of any ordinary mortal.

He reached out to touch the slender trunk of a young sapling. At a single caress, the bark twitched like a living animal, and a slender limb sprouted with unfurling leaves. He stroked the thread-like tip, and a tendril snaked towards him like ivy, twining around his fingertips.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. Nostalgic childhood memories tugged at his consciousness.

_Look, Okaa-san! I can make plants grow! They grow when I tell them to, Okaa-san!_

One small white bud blossomed. Tsuzuki lifted it up for a closer look. The flower unfurled and nodded at him in greeting.

"Hello there."

An icy gust of wind whooshed past his cheek, followed by a brutal snap. The fledgling branch shuddered and fell limp. Tsuzuki fumbled to support it, only to find it was severed from the trunk. .

"If you wanted someone to dance with, you only had to ask," Muraki drawled from behind.

Tsuzuki whirled around, the branch forgotten as it fell to the ground. "Why? Why did you break it? It was a new growth!"

Muraki bowed low before him. His white trenchcoat rippled and swished with his movements as if propelled by a magical updraft. "Forgive me for cutting in so rudely." But there was nothing apologetic about his imperious manner. "Dance with me."

Tsuzuki stepped back. He had no idea Muraki was so close. "Why should I? Weren't you happier on your own?"

"You bestow your power too freely." Muraki stepped forward, crushing the broken branch beneath his feet. He held out his hand. "Dance with me."

An order - and a challenge.

A thrill of excitement went through Tsuzuki. This was one challenge he knew he could handle.

"All right." Tsuzuki held his head high, with shoulders back and chest out, and extended his arms in the formal ballroom dancing pose. His experience as practice partner for his mother and sister was pronounced in every inch of his bearing.

Muraki blinked. More accustomed to Tsuzuki's slouched posture, he was surprised at the transformation.

Tsuzuki took his hand and dared to place it on his own shoulder - the typical position of the partner who follows.

But Muraki wasn't having any of it. He pulled himself free and instead reached under Tsuzuki's arm to grasp him by the shoulder blade. His sharp nails pressed through the fabric as he propelled Tsuzuki towards him - a reminder of the many times he had clawed the very same spot.

Tsuzuki trembled. How many times had Muraki eased the burning ache inside him? The excoriations were inextricably linked to their sexual encounters. His hand settled above Muraki's shoulder without protest. He leaned back a little, all the better to enjoy the prickling sensation of Muraki's nails.

Muraki's eyes glittered, but he said nothing. He simply took hold of Tsuzuki's other hand in a firm grip, then whirled him around into the dappled shadows of the trees. His movements were sure and graceful. His lean body pressed close against Tsuzuki to lead the way - a potent reminder of his latent physical strength.

Tsuzuki had no time to resist - he followed without conscious thought, led purely by the feel of Muraki's body moving against his, and his hands binding them close.

Step after step Muraki led the way, swinging Tsuzuki around backwards until he was almost dizzy, gliding forward so he could recover his senses, only to swing him around in another circle. Trees large and small stood in their way, yet Muraki wove his way through them without colliding with a single one. Inside was a shadowy clearing covered with leaves, where they were free to dance in relative solitude. Their trenchcoats swished and swirled behind them - white and black chasing each other round and round. From above, they were the moving version of the Yin-Yang symbol - opposites flowing together to form a united whole.

"Well, well." Muraki's warm breath caressed Tsuzuki's ear. "I never imagined you would be such a good dance partner. I thought you'd be inept, shambolic, clumsy - yet you're nothing of the kind. You effortlessly follow my lead...the same way you do in bed."

Tsuzuki lifted his chin to look Muraki in the eye. "I'm also good at taking the lead."

"Really?" Muraki drawled. He increased the tempo of his steps and whirled Tsuzuki around even faster.

Tsuzuki matched step for step. "You want me to take my place as a God of Wood, yet you're jealous when I help a little plant to grow. What's wrong with me using my power as I see fit?"

Muraki dug his nails into his shoulder, propelling him closer still. "So you intend to use your powers for nothing more than gardening - instead of considering the human lives you could save." He bent his head to nuzzle Tsuzuki's ear. "Such as Keiko, for example."

Tsuzuki stiffened against him, and lost his footing. "If I fail to deliver the summons, I'd be in breach of the JuOhCho court orders. I wouldn't do that, unless..."

"Unless?"

"Never mind." He had torn up a summons in defiance of the judiciary when a person had shown enough willpower and tenacity to resist the pull of death. But he couldn't tell Muraki that. "Even if I did fail, perhaps that wouldn't be enough to save her. She would still have to overcome her infection...assuming she has one."

Muraki raised a quizzical brow. "Do you doubt her illness? You saw her for yourself."

"I'm sure her illness is real, but I wonder about the cause. This entire situation could be a setup: you cast a barrier spell to prevent her arriving at the appointed time for judgement, then you curse her to rouse my sympathy and test my loyalties to Enma. I wouldn't put it past you."

"Why, Tsuzuki-san, you think I would harm someone I toiled to save by my own hand?"

"You murdered Tsubaki aboard the Queen Camellia," Tsuzuki reminded him. "She was your patient."

"Why, so I did." Muraki thought back for a moment - he had murdered so many that the individuals were becoming a blur. "Well, her father refused to assist with my lucrative organ trafficking syndicate after I saved his daughter's life. In the face of such ingratitude, wouldn't you have done the same?"

Tsuzuki ignored his levity. "So have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Have you cursed her?"

"Of course not. Why would I need her spiritual energy now that I have yours?" Muraki flexed his nails against Tsuzuki's shoulder blade like a lion appreciating the tactile feel of its prey. "Your energy is richer than that of any mortal. I have no use for curses anymore." He bent his head to nip at Tsuzuki's ear.

"Stop that." Muraki was hurting him, yet there was no denying the erotic thrill in the sharp, piercing sensations. "Someone might see."

"Even if I did curse her, you could undo it. You hold the power of regeneration and eternal life." He punctuated each sentence with a sharp nip, while waltzing around and around in perfect tempo. "Touch her the way you touched that plant, and she will be cured in body, mind and spirit. Do not fall into the trap of assuming Wood energy works only on plants. Wood will nourish the material elements in all living creatures too - which is why it is the true source of eternal life."

"Are you serious?" Tsuzuki could barely concentrate. The combination of giddy dancing and Muraki's caresses was threatening his resolve. "I...I can cure with a touch?"

"Of course. Now that I have unsealed you, one touch is all it would take. You'd be the envy of every physician and surgeon. You would be lauded as a miracle worker, a hero...even a Messiah."

It was unbelievable, a dream come true. Tsuzuki blinked up at him, incredulous. "Are you serious?

"Certainly." Muraki spun him around and around with consummate ease. "Shall I take you back there now?"

Tsuzuki was dazed, disoriented. He was no lightweight, yet he was little more than a leaf swirling in circles, held in thrall by Muraki's lithe strength. Together with the dizzy promises murmured in his ear, he felt as if he was in a dream.

He squeezed Muraki's hand to reassure himself it was real. "One touch?"

Muraki smiled. He dug his nails so deep that it pierced Tsuzuki's flesh through the material of his coat and shirt. "One touch."

Tsuzuki trembled, and it wasn't in pain. He shut his eyes and focused his power on their joined hands. When he opened them several seconds later, he found Muraki's lips hovering inches from his own and his false eye glowing softly.

"I'm no miracle worker." Tsuzuki averted his face. "I can't cure you, can I?"

"Cure me?" Two syllables injected with ominous suspicion. "Of what?"

"Your scarred false eye, and your cold unfeeling heart. You're more in need of healing than her. If I had the power to heal, I'd make you my very first patient."

"You hypocrite," Muraki sneered. "It's only because I am what I am that you find me so irresistible in the first place. I'm everything you outwardly fear, yet secretly desire." He bent his head, and nipped Tsuzuki's earlobe hard enough to draw blood. "You think your touch alone will satisfy my need? Have you learned nothing from our evenings together?"

Tsuzuki gasped, but he couldn't wrench himself away. His entire body still moved in effortless union with Muraki's...while his insides quivered like jelly. "Muraki...not here. Hisoka might see us."

"Let him see." Muraki licked at the blood. With his lips, he teased and suckled the soft lobe. "Let the whole world and the underworld see."

"No...ahh...we can't..." Dizzy with the dancing and aroused by Muraki's seductive nibbling, Tsuzuki teetered on the brink of capitulation. "All right. I...I'll do my best to cure her..."

Muraki chuckled. "You _will_ cure her - I am sure of it." His lips searched for the sensitive spot behind Tsuzuki's ear.

"...but first you must allow me...to feed you...my way."

Muraki stopped so abruptly Tsuzuki collided against him.

"Your way?" he sneered. "Your way?" He shook Tsuzuki by the shoulders. "Why bring up that degrading incident again? You knew I would never give my consent, so you waited until I was vulnerable to take advantage of me! Did you enjoy using me for your own gratification so much?"

Clinging against him for support, Tsuzuki could see the glittering anger in his narrowed eyes. Muraki was not a man to change his mind; his will was implacable as iron. Accustomed to having his way in all things, compromise was alien to him, negotiation beyond comprehension.

He was supposed to be the God of Wood, harbinger of chaos and master of eternal life. But pinned by Muraki's chilly gaze, he may as well have been a wriggling worm to be crushed under his heel - and it thrilled him beyond all reason.

The summons from JuOhCho, his assignment here in the land of the living, even the Gushoshin Brothers and his partner Hisoka - none of it mattered as much as the crazy desire to submit to Muraki's will. Being able to possess Muraki would always be the ultimate prize...but being taken by Muraki wasn't such a bad consolation prize either.

With his heart thudding in his chest, Tsuzuki nodded in mute agreement. He pressed himself full-length against the solid warmth of Muraki's body, showing with his body what he was too ashamed to say with words.

Muraki hauled him close. "Well, well." Reassured of his dominance, his lips curved in sardonic amusement. "Perhaps I should give you a taste of what it's like to be on the receiving end, ne? You need to be reminded of the pleasure in being possessed before you can give an honest answer."

As they dematerialised in a flurry of white feathers, he pulled a willing Tsuzuki into a crushing kiss.

* * *

After interviewing the fourth patient on the list, Hisoka and Gushoshin Younger had gathered enough information to have some idea of Muraki's recent movements.

"So Muraki's been in touch with them all. He's called the first three to check on their well-being, and he visited the fourth in person." Hisoka flicked through his notepad. "That was two weeks ago, which means Muraki must have been in Nagasaki for at least that long. How did that last patient look to you, Gushoshin?"

"Pretty sprightly for a lady in her eighties," Gushoshin replied. "She was very nice to us too. She even offered us tea!"

"Yeah." Walking along the footpath, Hisoka had to agree. "At first I thought Muraki might have drained her of blood, but she didn't look pale or tired, did she?" He shrugged. "I guess that's no surprise. He seems to prefer his victims younger anyway."

Gushoshin was oblivious to the sarcasm. "Well, she mentioned having a wound infection after her recent surgery. Maybe Muraki wanted to check up on her. Did you see that big scar going down her chest? That was scary!"

"Yeah, it was." The beginning of an ugly keloid scar had been visible just above the folds of her silk kimono. She had not been ashamed of it at all - in fact she had pointed it out to them:

_I know it doesn't look pretty, but I wouldn't be alive without it. So to me, this scar is something to be proud of. It marks me as a survivor. Only we survivors are fortunate enough to have scars._

Hisoka glanced down at his covered arms. His curse marks weren't quite the same as scars - their appearance seemed to wax and wane according to Muraki's whim. But her words had made him wonder. How could such a disfiguring mark be a source of pride? How could something so ugly be a sign of good fortune?

No, it was ugly, shameful...something best left concealed even on a humid summer's day.

Perched on his shoulder, Gushoshin Younger peered down at him. "Are you all right, Hisoka-san? You must be feeling pretty hot wearing that jacket!"

"I'm used to it." Hisoka pulled his denim jacket around him. "How many more patients do we have to find?"

"Twenty-two."

Hisoka grimaced. If they were anything like the four interviews he'd just conducted, then they would be filled with gushing tributes to Muraki-sensei's miraculous skills and dedication to saving the human race, interspersed with the odd tear of joyful gratitude. Honestly, the cloying sappiness was enough to make him sick. "I need a break."

He bought a can of lemon soda from a streetside vending machine, taking care to pick something well within the daily allowance allocated by Tatsumi. Even though he wasn't human, he still had to look after the needs of his body.

"That's something I never did get about being a Shinigami," he said between sips. "I mean, we're given rapid healing powers and the ability to use spells to help us in our work. But why do we still feel hunger and thirst? Our bodies are virtually immortal now. It shouldn't matter if we starve or dehydrate, because our bodies will recover anyway."

"Hisoka-san!" Gushoshin Younger was appalled. "But your appetites are the source of pleasure and enjoyment! Without them, imagine how dull the afterlife would be! Eating and drinking until you're fit to burst - without the nastier repercussions - is what makes the afterlife fun!"

Hisoka thought back to the Shoukanka morning tea. Everyone had been so excited about the sweets Tsuzuki brought in. He recalled how Tsuzuki tenderly held the manju bun to his mouth...and the explosion of emotions that came with that first bite: burning hunger, followed by a rich voluptuous pleasure that seemed to uncurl through one's entire body.

How Tsuzuki could derive so much enjoyment from food was beyond his understanding. The King of Sweets? What a moron!

"Hmph." Hisoka wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "I suppose eating and drinking can feel good, yeah. But that's only because it relieves the pain of being hungry and thirsty in the first place. If we didn't experience these bothersome appetites, then we wouldn't know what we were missing and we'd be better off for it," he concluded.

"Well...I guess so," Gushoshin Younger conceded in a doubtful tone.

Hisoka mused over Tsuzuki's inordinate pleasure when it came to eating food. Maybe his appetites were simply greater than a normal person.

The image lingered in his uneasy mind: Tsuzuki's lips as he lovingly nibbled and caressed the pale white manju bun...

...the same shade of pale white as Muraki's skin.

Hisoka stiffened. His fingers tightened over the can until the metal buckled.

"Hisoka-san?" Gushoshin Younger asked. "Is something wrong?"

"There's something important I need to know. I want you to be honest with me." Hisoka's voice was tightly controlled. "What exactly did Tsuzuki get up to last week when he invited you down to Nagasaki?"

* * *

Pleasure. Exquisite pleasure.

Back in the penthouse apartment, Tsuzuki was having his most base of appetites filled by the thrust of Muraki's cock.

Nude except for the bandages he had wound over his torso to conceal the torn wings, he rested on his hands and knees. Kneeling behind him, Muraki slowly pushed into his ass, withdrew, then surged forward again.

Tsuzuki groaned. His thighs quivered under the onslaught. Between them, his balls swayed in time with Muraki's driving movements. His ass throbbed and ached...and it felt like heaven.

"You like that, ne?" Kneeling over him, Muraki gripped his hips on either side to control the rhythm and depth of each thrust. "Even if you don't cry out, I can tell. The way your muscles ripple as you squeeze around me...ahh, just so..." His voice was thick and husky with arousal.

"Muraki..." Tsuzuki shuddered. Muraki was sliding against his prostate, setting off sparks of pleasure deep within him. His cock twitched and hardened in response. "There...that's the spot..."

"Are you sure?" Muraki angled his hips the same way.

"Yes! Oh yes..." Tsuzuki shuddered again. His fingers clenched the sheets beneath him for support. "More..."

A throaty chuckle escaped from Muraki's lips. "Really?" He slowly slid the entire way out. "I don't want to coerce you into doing this against your will."

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki struggled to push himself back. Muraki's nails dug into his hips, drawing blood - a fleeting pain compared to the ache of frustration within. "Please...don't stop. I want this!"

"Are you sure?" Muraki allowed his cock to slide between the cleft of Tsuzuki's buttocks, teasing the delicate perineal flesh and the sensitised opening. "Before you insisted on being on top. Before you demanded that we do it _your_ way. Have you suddenly changed your mind?"

Tsuzuki shuddered and pushed back, offering up his ass without inhibition. "You want Hisoka to barge in on us? Just do it, dammit!"

Muraki chuckled again. "You're right. That boy does have the worst possible timing." He adjusted his angle of entry, and slid himself home once more. "It's better this way, don't you agree?"

"Mmm..." Tsuzuki buried his face in the sheets to muffle his moan of bliss.

Muraki sighed deeply. "Admit it: you love me inside you, filling you up. You love it more than anything in the entire world." While keeping himself buried to the hilt, he began a series of small steady thrusts.

Tsuzuki shuddered. "Yes...oh yes...that's perfect..."

"Exactly." Muraki leaned forward to kiss the nape of Tsuzuki's sweat-damp neck. "So why tamper with perfection? This is the way we're meant to be together." One of his hands snaked around to massage Tsuzuki's erection.

Tsuzuki exhaled sharply. Muraki's every touch seemed to elicit a new ripple of delight, whether it was the hard heavy weight against his back that prevented escape, the hungry mouth that licked and nipped his shoulder, or the possessive hand that stroked his slick cock to throbbing hardness. And throughout it all, there was the unbearably exquisite sensation of Muraki deep inside him, striking a steady bassline of sizzling jolts that threatened to turn him into a trembling, incoherent wreck.

Under such a tumult of sensations, he wasn't in a position to disagree. Perhaps it was better to rejoice in the mindless bliss of capitulation, and allow Muraki to give and give until he had nothing left...

He bit his lip, remembering. Muraki had regained his spiritual power - the way he had magically whisked them both to his apartment using his own power was proof. He was becoming the Muraki of old: the one who cast spells with the mastery to match a Shinigami, the one who fearlessly challenged him in battle. Was this a consequence of their numerous feeding sessions? Maybe taking Muraki that one time had made all the difference.

Damn. As good as being fucked by Muraki felt, he couldn't allow it to continue. "Muraki..."

"Mmm, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki's breath gusted over his shoulder and tickled his jaw.

Tsuzuki lowered his head, and caught a glimpse of his erection appearing and disappearing beneath Muraki's grasping fingers - as captive to Muraki's will as the rest of his trembling, aching body.

"Muraki..." His voice was hoarse and deep. "D-don't overdo it...I don't want you...to exhaust yourself..."

"Focus on yourself." Muraki's hips began rocking in and out faster. "Focus on this, and come for me."

Tsuzuki gasped. The combination of steady fucking and relentless squeezing was becoming too much. Within Muraki's grip, his cock ached and oozed precome. "I'm nearly there...so close..." He shut his eyes, fighting for control. "You're too good..."

"Of course I am."

"...but it doesn't mean that we can only do it this way." Tsuzuki shook his head, doing his best to dissipate the fog of pleasure. "If-if you come now...and collapse from exhaustion...I'll have no choice but to..."

"Silence!" Muraki withdrew and shoved him down onto his back. "I'll never permit it! Never!"

The ache of frustrated arousal was agonising. Tsuzuki could barely speak between heavy pants. "Y-you need...my essence. How else...can you...get it?"

Roughly Muraki pushed his thighs apart and knelt between them. He stared down his nose at Tsuzuki, like a master contemplating how to punish a disobedient servant. His cock jutted out, glistening in the afternoon sunlight.

Too weak to sit up, Tsuzuki could only stare in dazed wonder. His own cock pointed up, silently demanding attention.

Muraki's expression was so hostile that Tsuzuki was sure he would walk out on him then and there. Neglected and disappointed, his erection began to waver and list to one side.

The movement caught Muraki's attention. With an inarticulate growl, he seized Tsuzuki's cock in his hands and swallowed it whole.

Tsuzuki cried out. His hips bucked off the mattress. He grasped Muraki's head - wanting to keep him and his ravenous mouth there for good, yet unable to withstand this surfeit of ecstasy. He arched up, head thrown back, chest heaving, while his feet scrabbled against the sheets - every muscle straining for release or escape.

But Muraki held him down by the hips, and refused to let go. He suckled and swallowed, using this lips and tongue and the warm wet confines of his mouth to suckle Tsuzuki's cock.

Tsuzuki writhed on the bed and kicked out like a wild horse. Muraki seized his ankle, narrowly avoiding a bump to the head.

Lying unnoticed on the nightstand table, the grey cat watched with wide eyes.

Muraki pushed Tsuzuki's knees up to his chest and leaned over him. "Should I stop?"

"Yes...no..." Tsuzuki didn't know what he wanted anymore.

Muraki's lips curled in a wicked grin. "Perhaps you'd enjoy it more if I nourished you, ne?" He slid his cock against Tsuzuki's, rubbing their erections together. "Isn't that more to your liking?"

"Don't..." Tsuzuki shuddered, and tightened his legs around Muraki's torso to hold him still. "Use your mouth. You need to feed from me...

Muraki pressed down on him, his weight heavy and unyielding. His cock nudged Tsuzuki's ass.

"B-but you'll only exhaust yourself-"

Too late. Muraki slid inside him with a single stroke.

Tsuzuki shuddered and shook his head. "You need...to feed first..."

Muraki didn't bother replying to his token protests. With each violent surge of his hips, he began fucking Tsuzuki in earnest. He buried his face against Tsuzuki's shoulder. The only sound he made were his heavy panting breaths with each thrust.

And Tsuzuki was lost, utterly lost. Even as his mind came up with vague objections, he held Muraki tight and willingly rode the pounding waves of Muraki's ruthless possession. Rocking back and forth, over and over, tossed on a sea of glorious pleasure-pain that led to a brutal, pulsating climax.

Muraki tensed, and let out a low growl of triumph. Beneath him, Tsuzuki gasped. His shoulder blades ached with prickling pain - the sprouting of his black wings.

Slowly Muraki withdrew from him. He took in Tsuzuki with a single withering glance: hair mussed, face flushed, lips parted, semen splattered over his chest, legs splayed apart, and black quills emerging from beneath his back.

"You must be tired..." Tsuzuki's voice was hoarse. "Come and feed from me...before it's too late..."

"Why should I? Why should I obey your commands, when you refuse to obey mine?" Muraki moved off the bed and turned away. "You're not the only person I can feed from. There are others I can call on - others who are more compliant and accommodating." He picked up his clothes. "Perhaps it's time I did."

Tsuzuki struggled to sit up. "What do you mean? Who are you talking about?"

Muraki sauntered to the bathroom. "Excuse me. If you're going to leave by conventional means, lock the door on your way out."

"Muraki! Muraki, wait!"

The bathroom door closed with a slam.

The cat leapt to the floor and ran to the door. "Where are you going? The Light must be worshipped and glorified!" It winced as a gust of wind blew from under the door.

Tsuzuki wrenched the door open. Muraki was gone. All he found was a flurry of white feathers swirling on the floor.

* * *

In his laboratory, Watari paced the floor, hands behind his back. 003 fluttered above him, mimicking his movements.

On the blackboard was written the numbers 3 and 22, and the word LUX.

"It's got to be a clue," he muttered to himself. "Or a message. But what could it mean?" He halted before the blackboard, stroking his chin.

003 hovered over his head for a few seconds longer, then gave up. She settled atop Watari's head to take a break.

Watari sighed. "I bet Tsuzuki must have some idea. This message is for him, after all. I'd ask him more questions, but he never hangs around long enough."

003 hooted in agreement. She was pretty dizzy from flying in circles for the past half an hour.

"Yeah, you're right. There's no point in getting worked up about it. It's not my business, is it?" Watari sat down at his desk. "Not officially, anyway." He opened the drawer, and took out the drawing of the Tsuzuki's anagram. "There's nothing like it in the JuOhCho supercomputer. I've probed Akasha's vast database as best I could, and come up empty. Now if Akasha doesn't know the answer, who can you ask?"

003 settled on the pile of books atop his desk to take a closer look at the drawing.

"There." Watari held it up so she could see. "Can you make sense of it?"

003 cocked her head to one side for several seconds, then shook her head.

"Well, thanks for trying." Watari put it back down again. Was it worth trying to search Akasha again for more information? He could only do it for short periods at a time because of the terrible headaches it gave him. But that was the price he paid for being permanently online to Akasha.

When he was first assigned to EnmaCho, he had also been specially selected to work for Akasha. Only the most brilliant minds were chosen for such a task. Akasha stored the combined wisdom of the human race through the ages - a huge reservoir of information from every field of human endeavour. As Chief Researcher of the classified Five Senses Project, he was in charge of cataloging, classifying and cross-referencing the data into an accessible database for JuOhCho. A direct link to Akasha had been inserted into his brain, allowing him to use his significant intellectual capacity to sort the terabytes of information twenty-hours a day, seven days a week. No matter where he was, no matter what he was doing, any residual brainpower he possessed would be harnessed by Akasha.

Some within the project accused him of selling his mind. They were just jealous, of course - jealous that their minds were not capable of withstanding a direct link. Overload a human mind too much, and the resulting short-circuit would lead to memory loss at best, insanity at worst. But he had managed it better than most. All he experienced was the occasional headache - a side-effect that haunted him to this day.

Watari rubbed his temples. He no longer served Akasha day and night, but the link was still there - ready to be reactivated on demand. Once connected, he was online for good. Akasha was a demanding mistress.

003 hooted at him. When he didn't notice, she scratched the uppermost book on the pile with her talons.

"Hey, hey! Stop that!" Watari swept her off with his hand. "Books are precious! You ought to know better!"

003 easily evaded him. She fluttered up, then settled on his shoulder.

Watari picked the book up. "How could you damage the cover like that? Geez, look at these scratches. Shame on you, 003!"

003 hooted loudly in reply.

"Well, lucky for you this Bible is pretty old, and the leather was pretty wrinkled to start with..."

Watari's voice faded off. He looked down at the anagram, then up at the blackboard: 3 22 LUX. Then his gaze went to the Bible in his hand.

"Of course! The Bible!" He opened up the Bible and flicked wildly through its pages. "The answer could be right here! 003, you little beauty! You're a genius!"

003 nuzzled his ear, then went back to preening herself.

* * *

Gushoshin Younger hummed and hawed and stalled as best he could, but he was a poor liar. It didn't take long for Hisoka to prise the truth out of him.

"Damn Tsuzuki! Damn him! Why didn't he tell me Muraki was appearing in his dreams?"

"Well..." Floating before him, Gushoshin Younger looked sheepishly at the ground. "He didn't want you to worry-"

"What rubbish! I'm going to wring Tsuzuki's neck the next time I see him!" Hisoka hurled his empty can in a nearby trashbin. "So you remember nothing after Muraki dazzled you with that knockout spell?"

The bird spirit nodded. "Uh huh. The next thing I knew, it was morning and I was lying in Tsuzuki's bed. I didn't even recall being knocked out until my memory came back two days later."

Hisoka ran impatient fingers through his hair. "So how could you go along with it? How could you say nothing? You're no better than everyone else in the Shoukanka! You've all been keeping me in the dark!"

"I did warn Tsuzuki-san! I warned him that Shinigami should work in pairs! But he wanted to take care of it himself, because he wasn't sure how you'd handle seeing Muraki again."

"Look, I can handle Muraki just fine!"

"Then...you're not haunted by Muraki's curse anymore?" Gushoshin asked hopefully.

Hisoka stiffened. Without thinking, he pulled his jacket around him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Tsuzuki-san mentioned you act weird around him..."

"When was I weird? I was fine aboard the Queen Camellia! I won Tsuzuki back from him in that stupid poker game, didn't I?" He pushed away the memories of the nightmares and the glowing curse marks - bad as they were, they hadn't affected his work performance one bit. "And during the Kyoto assignment, wasn't I the one who took care of Tsuzuki after he drank himself into an intoxicated stupor?"

"Yes, you did," Gushoshin Younger agreed meekly.

"If anything, he's the one who needs looking after! So why does he insist on mollycoddling me? Why does he think he has to protect me whenever Muraki's..." Hisoka stopped in mid-sentence, his mind racing. "Dammit! That bastard! That's what he's doing to me right now!"

"Huh?"

Hisoka shoved his notepad and pen in his pocket. "Making me interview these patients was an excuse to keep me out of the way! I bet he's gone off on his own to find Muraki! We have to find him fast! Can you contact your brother, Gushoshin?"

Gushoshin Younger nodded. "I'll get onto it at once, Hisoka-san." He shut his eyes and focused his spiritual power. As twin brothers, the Gushoshin were capable of communicating telepathically - that was what made them such an efficient team in the library. But when he opened his eyes, he was anxious. "He's not responding. It's like he's not able to hear me."

"He must be in trouble." Meaning Tsuzuki was as well. "Can you locate him?"

"You bet, Hisoka-san. I can sense his spiritual presence anywhere."

A truck rumbled past, shielding them from the view of ordinary people going about their everyday business. When the truck was gone, they had vanished.

* * *

They tracked Gushoshin Elder to the park outside one of Nagasaki's major hospitals. He remained perched on the armrail of a park bench, staring into space.

"Elder brother! Elder brother!" Gushoshin Younger flew towards him. "Oh no! What have they done to-" Without warning, he collided with thin air and ricocheted off. "Arrgh!"

Hisoka dived to one side to catch him. "Hey! What just happened?"

"A barrier! There's a spiritual barrier around him!"

The two of them approached the bench. Hisoka gingerly reached out a hand. "Gushoshin Elder? Can you hear me?"

No response. The bird spirit's eyes were glazed and unblinking.

Hisoka reached out a little more. An invisible force sent him staggering backwards.

"Damn!" He rubbed his sore hand. "It's strong!"

"It's not just a barrier spell." Gushoshin Younger fluttered around his brother, wringing his winged hands. "He's in some kind of trance. Someone must have cast a spell on him, then placed the barrier around him. What are we going to do?"

Hisoka walked around the bench without encountering the barrier. He touched the far armrail - nothing. Gingerly he sat down on the bench as far as possible from Gushoshin Elder - nothing.

"Wow! This barrier must be small!"

Hisoka picked up some gravel. He tossed some of it under the bench beneath Gushoshin Elder - nothing. He tossed some of it over Gushoshin Elder's head - nothing. He tossed the rest straight at Gushoshin Elder, and ducked as stones flew in all directions. "Yeah, which means it's going to be tough to break through it without injuring him." He dusted his hands. "But I'll give it my best shot." He reached in his jacket for an attack fuda.

Gushoshin Younger hovered in front of his brother, blocking Hisoka's way. "Wait, Hisoka-san! Isn't there another way?"

"No, unless whoever created this barrier dissolves the spell for us." Hisoka stepped past him, fuda raised at the ready.

A sudden gust of wind blew behind them both. It ripped the paper charm from his fingers and sent it flying.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Two meddlesome twits for the price of one."

Hisoka whirled around. "Muraki! I knew you had a hand in this!"

Dressed in his customary white trenchcoat and suit, Muraki stood before him. The wind blew his silver hair off his forehead, revealing the eerie false eye. The tails of his coat flapped around his legs. "More than a hand, I should think," he replied mildly. "Do you require any assistance in releasing your avian colleague?"

"No! I wouldn't ask your help if you were the last person alive!" Hisoka ignored Gushoshin Younger's look of alarm. "Where's Tsuzuki? What have you done with him?"

"Why do you ask? Have you misplaced him somewhere?" Muraki sauntered to the end of the park bench opposite the dazed Gushoshin Elder and took a seat. "Tsk tsk. What a careless partner you are."

"Don't mess with me! I know he's been investigating you on his own! You've been planting dreams in his mind so that he'd come after you! You're manipulating him in the same way you used to manipulate me!"

"Why, don't tell me you're jealous, boy? Do you miss seeing me in your dreams? Would you like to relive our romantic moonlit encounter beneath the sakura tree?"

"Shut up!" Horrible memories flashed through Hisoka's mind: being stripped of his clothes, lying helpless on the ground. "I'm not your puppet anymore! I'm not a doll for you to use - and neither is Tsuzuki!" He pulled out another attack fuda from his jacket. "Now tell me where he is or be prepared to fight!"

"Fight? With you? Hmph." Muraki regarded him with the same patience a long-suffering parent might give a toddler having a tantrum. "What will that achieve? If I defeat you, I certainly won't tell you. In the unlikely event that you defeat me, I doubt I'd be in a condition to tell you." He shook his head, chuckling to himself. "Actually, I doubt Tsuzuki-san would want to be seen in his current state."

Disgust rose within Hisoka. "What the hell have you done to him? If you've harmed him in any way, I swear I'll-"

"Tsk! Temper, temper." Muraki held up a silencing finger. "Allow me to propose an alternative arrangement for you to retrieve Tsuzuki-san - one that will be less troublesome for all parties concerned."

Hisoka didn't lower the fuda an inch. "What?" he spat out.

Muraki's gaze slid over him with slow and deliberate intent. It made Hisoka's skin crawl. No...surely Muraki couldn't be after...

"Your body in exchange for your partner's." Muraki smiled, well aware of Hisoka's loathing. " Allow me to reacquaint myself with your pliant young body for old times' sake, and I swear to return Tsuzuki-san back to your side."

* * *

Note: The references to Watari and the Akasha supercomputer come from the Kamakura arc in YnM vol12.


	30. Exodus

"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."

John Milton - _Paradise Lost_

* * *

Back in Muraki's apartment, Tsuzuki pulled on a pair of trousers. His black wings made it impossible to wear a shirt.

"That bastard! I should've known!"

Tsuzuki whirled around. He needed wooden objects to absorb his excess energy. But the decor of Muraki's penthouse suite was modern and minimalist, with furnishings of steel and glass. "He did this to me on purpose!"

Tsuzuki stormed to the kitchen, and yanked open drawers to find chopsticks, wooden spoons, and a chopping board. Within seconds he transformed them into a tangled mess of thick vines and thorny branches. "That liar! He said I could cure others, so why can't I cure myself?"

The cat leapt up on the bench. "Why are you ashamed of the symbol of your power? Why do you fear your true nature?"

"I never wanted this! All I wanted...was to be normal!" Tsuzuki pushed the newly-created plant life aside. His wings remained unchanged, folded high over his shoulders. "When I find Muraki, I'm going to kill him!"

"Kill him?" the cat yowled. "Are you serious?"

"Well, I wish I could! But I need his Metal power to counteract this!"

The cat looked down at its claws. "Once upon a time, Metal energy was plentiful in the material world, along with its active manifestation, Wind. Once upon a time, the four elemental spirits danced, and the world was blessed by their powers."

"The world isn't like that anymore." Tsuzuki pulled one of his wings forward. He splayed the wingtip on the kitchen bench with one hand, and lifted up a meat cleaver with the other.

"Material metal is not enough," the cat warned him. "You mustn't-"

Tsuzuki slammed the blade down, and let out a howl of pain. The excruciating agony of torn muscle and crushed bone sizzled along the length of his wing, and radiated into his shoulder.

He dropped the cleaver and staggered back. The injured wing, partially severed, flapped behind him, splattering blood on the kitchen floor.

The cat lashed its tail. "Stop it! This is sacrilege! You mustn't mutilate yourself! You bear the Fruit of Life!"

Buckled over, Tsuzuki was gasping for breath. He'd been shot, stabbed, torn apart - but this pain was unbearable. "That...was...a bad idea."

The cat leapt down to the floor beside Tsuzuki. "The one you call Muraki is not the only source of Metal energy." It gazed hungrily at the bloody wing, and licked its lips. "Once upon a time, I could have pruned your wings for you."

"But...I thought demons...only used Fire."

The cat lapped at the drops of blood on the floor. "Only because we had no choice after the partition. I chose to live in this reality with borrowed Fire than be captive in Gensoukai." It held up one paw to reveal curved claws of gleaming silver.

"You were...a Metal shikigami?"

"Yes, but I specialised in Wind, the active manifestation of Metal." The cat lashed its tail. "My inherent Metal power is not what it once was, but perhaps I can still help. Do you wish to remain dormant in human form?"

"Yes! I can't go after...Muraki like this! I can't let...anyone else see me..." His black wings trembled above him in agitation.

The cat crouched low on its stomach. With gaze lifted, it crept closer until it was directly beneath the bloody wingtip.

At close range, Tsuzuki could see its eyes. The slitted pupil glowed red, and the grey iris was clouded over with a tinge of aqua green.

He had the strangest feeling he had seen eyes like this before.

With silver teeth bared, the cat sprang up.

* * *

"My...body?" Hisoka repeated. "Why?"

"Why not? I still have fond memories of our night together, as I'm sure you do as well." Muraki's voice was low and soothing. "You were beautiful that night with your pale porcelain flesh and limpid green eyes. The finest doll in my collection could not compare to you. And thanks to your position as a Shinigami, you remain just as beautiful now."

"No..." Hisoka wanted to move. He wanted to hurl his attack fuda. He wanted to turn around and run away. But he was rooted to the spot by frozen horror...and there was something hypnotic about Muraki's deep melodic voice.

Muraki smiled and stepped closer. "But you are. No need to be modest. In fact, you look even more beautiful than I recall." He brushed his silver hair from his forehead. His false eye began to glow.

Hisoka couldn't look away. He was mesmerised by that eerie false eye.

"Leave him alone!" Gushoshin Younger squawked. He flew up until he hovered high above Muraki's head. "Leave him alone or I'll attack!"

Muraki cast him a hostile glance. "I'd like to see you try." He raised his hand up. Brilliant white light radiated from his palm.

Gushoshin scrunched his eyes shut. "Don't look at him, Hisoka-san! Close your eyes and run!" He dive-bombed Muraki butt first.

Muraki sidestepped. Gushoshin Younger whooshed past his shoulder and slammed into the grass at Muraki's feet. The next instant he was hoisted up in the air again, held aloft by Muraki's grip around his throat.

"You dare to interrupt us?" Muraki fixed the bird spirit with the white glow emanating from his false eye. "Do you not know the special past he and I share?"

"I don't care about you!" Gushoshin Younger squirmed, talons scrabbling wildly in mid-air, eyes still shut. "Hisoka-san, wake up!"

Hisoka blinked. Someone was calling him. A dim corner of his mind knew there was something important he needed to do.

"I cursed him, and yet I saved him." Muraki brought Gushoshin closer, exposing him to the full glare of the white light. "I saved him from a fate worse than death. He comes from a family line that has been condemned to suffer horribly for the sins of their forefathers. Why, I understand at the time of his death, his own father rejoiced in the knowledge he would be spared the wretched fate of succeeding him as heir."

The hypnotic allure of Muraki's voice tugged Hisoka back into the trance. In his mind's eye, he saw the stern face of his father - always critical, always disapproving of his sickly son with the freakish ability to sense the emotions of others.

Perhaps Muraki was right. Perhaps his father had rejoiced at his death - the death of the son he had never loved.

"Shut up, you liar!" Gushoshin Younger squawked, eyes still shut by sheer force of will. "I don't believe you! Ignore him, Hisoka-san! Snap out of it!"

"Save your breath. He can't ignore me. That night I cursed him, I made him my puppet - compliant and obedient to my every whim." Muraki turned to Hisoka. "Why do you frown, boy? Do you still long for the fatherly affection you were denied in your short life?" He tilted Hisoka's jaw up. "Be sad no more. Your master has returned. Submit to me, and rest assured I will give you a night to remember. Pain isn't the only sensation transmitted by the curse, ne?"

The bird spirit opened his eyes to see Muraki looming over Hisoka's lips. "You despicable pervert! At least with Tsuzuki-san you were picking on someone your own size!"

Muraki turned his head. Gushoshin Younger was struck by the full glare of the false eye. His gaze turned blank, and his body went limp.

Muraki tossed the bird spirit over his shoulder. "Now then, where were we?"

Hisoka frowned. There was something important he had to do...something very important...

"Come, my dear puppet." It was mid-afternoon and the park was deserted. There was no one around to witness Muraki lead a dazed Hisoka to the shade of a mature fig tree. "Your body in exchange for your partner's - what could be a fairer deal? Do you agree to abide by my terms?"

What terms? The low hypnotic voice was like a soothing lullaby. The individual words made no sense at all to Hisoka's befuddled mind.

"You want to save Tsuzuki-san, don't you?" With unhurried patience, Muraki began freeing one of Hisoka's arms from the denim jacket.

Hisoka did not resist. He gazed into space as he mulled over Muraki's question. "Yes. Tsuzuki gets into trouble...if I'm not there for him."

"How noble of you." Muraki's hands went still for a moment. "Is it typical for all servants of Enma to be burdened with a tedious saviour complex?"

Hisoka's brow furrowed in thought. An alarm bell went off in his mind, penetrating the foggy stupor. Tsuzuki...

Muraki removed the rest of the jacket, leaving Hisoka in his T-shirt. "I don't know how you managed to wear this on such a warm day. Doesn't that feel better now?" He tossed it to the ground.

Hisoka tried to speak. "Tsuzuki..." he murmured.

"Never mind him. I have no need for him and his tiresome games any longer." Muraki picked up Hisoka's hands. "Now let me see my handiwork - the beautiful reminder of our first night beneath the sakura tree." He turned each arm over, studying the pale forearms.

The skin was unmarked. There was no curse to be seen.

Muraki crouched before him. "What is this? Surely you haven't forgotten your master." Muraki frowned in puzzlement. "Where is my handiwork? Where is the mark of my possession?"

"Where is...Tsuzuki?"

Muraki pulled one sleeve up to Hisoka's shoulder. "I can't believe I spent hours inscribing it on your flesh...only to find the canvas bare." He stood up and roughly pulled Hisoka's T-shirt over his head. "There must be some trace of it here."

Nothing on his chest or abdomen. Nothing on his back. The elaborate curlicues and intertwining red lines were nowhere to be seen.

Muraki shook him by the forearms. His false eye glowed an angry red. "Where is it? Where is the curse?"

Hisoka's gaze remained glazed, but his mouth was compressed in a grim line. Inside, he was wrestling the hypnotic fog with all his might. "Where is...Tsuzuki?" he asked in a louder voice.

The light from Muraki's eye gleamed brighter still. "It's not your place to ask questions, boy. Explain how you rid yourself of the curse."

Hisoka tried to pull away. "I've got to find...Tsuzuki."

Muraki pulled him back. "Silence! Tell me what became of the curse!"

"Tsuzuki...Tsuzuki..." Hisoka repeated it over and over like a mantra. Each time he said it aloud, the fog seemed to recede a little more.

"You think Tsuzuki-san will come to your rescue?" Muraki sneered. He leaned closer to speak in his ear. "Have you noticed how tired and distracted he is lately? Has he been turning up late to work, only to disappear mysteriously in the afternoon? Have you wondered what he's been up to without you following him around like a lost puppy?"

Hisoka went silent. Doubt assailed his mind.

_Tsuzuki doesn't want me as a partner anymore._

"You want to see Tsuzuki-san? You want to see the true form of your dear partner?" Muraki's chuckle held malicious glee. "Be careful for what you wish for, boy."

The fog grew thick once more. Hisoka's shoulders slumped, and his arms fell limp.

"There, that's more like it." Reassured of his power, Muraki released him and stood up. "That's how a puppet should be: nice and quiet." He walked around Hisoka, inspecting his bare torso from every angle.

That curse had been his masterpiece - proof of the power granted to him on that fateful night he made a contract with a God of Death. It was inconceivable that his work of art could be eradicated without a trace. The longer he stared at the blank canvas of Hisoka's flesh, the more his outrage grew.

Were the curse marks concealed from view? But how? Surely he as the original spellcaster would be able to sense it regardless? Unless...

His gaze fell to the shadows at Hisoka's feet. It was difficult to tell them apart from the shifting shadows cast by the tree's branches. But his intuition sensed something wasn't right about them.

"Well, well," he murmured. The glow in his false eye winked out. "Has someone else laid a hand on you?"

Hisoka wasn't listening. He was well and truly trapped in the mire of self-doubt.

_I'm no use to Tsuzuki. I'm no use to anyone. I was worthless when I was alive, and I'm still worthless in the afterlife._

Muraki observed the glistening wetness at the corner of Hisoka's eyes. His puppet was forlorn and miserable...yet it wasn't his doing.

"Who was it? Who else has touched you? Is he the one who has taken away my curse?" Muraki yanked Hisoka's jaw up. "Is that why you weep? Do you long for his caresses now?"

Hisoka wasn't listening.

"Marked or unmarked, you carry my essence within you. When I take possession of you again, your shinigami body shall awaken once more...and reveal my mark for all to see." Muraki dug his nails into the underside of Hisoka's jaw.

Dark shadows flitted from Hisoka's feet, sliding along his bare skin. They coalesced and circled Muraki's fingers, squeezing with surprising strength.

Stunned, Muraki let go. The shadows dispersed and merged back with the shadows at Hisoka's feet.

"Well, well." Muraki extended a hand towards Hisoka's throat, nails bared. The shadows flew up in anticipation, surrounding Hisoka's neck, shielding his chest. "How fascinating."

There was a sudden rustle overhead. Muraki looked up.

Tsuzuki was perched in the fork of the tree trunk. His black wings were gone. Blood was smeared over his bare chest like tribal war paint. He wore his black trenchcoat draped over his shoulders. Crouched further up the trunk was a sleek black panther with glowing green eyes.

Muraki stared, eyes wide. For the very first time, Tsuzuki's bearing was befitting of a god - a god of war. Torn between bloodthirst and physical lust, he released Hisoka. The moon was not yet full. Tsuzuki was not supposed to awaken in spirit yet...was he?

"Abandon the Light at your peril!" the panther growled in a deep voice. "Glory be to the Light!"

"Silence!" Muraki snapped. "Who gave you permission to feed from him? Tsuzuki-san is mine!"

"You abandoned him!" The panther leapt to the ground, tail lashing. "You abandoned the Light to embrace darkness!" It bent its head and nudged Muraki's hip, pushing him away from Hisoka. "You must not give in to temptation and stray from the path of the Light."

Tsuzuki jumped to the ground. "I've been generous with you. I've allowed you to do as you please. I've put my friendships, my very position in the Shoukanka on the line for you...and this is how you repay me?" He slung off his coat. In place of his black wings were hinged skeletal appendages covered with bloody ragged feathers.

Muraki yanked the panther by the scruff of the neck. "You fed from his flesh! Did you imbibe his essence?"

"Of course not! His body and blood is rich enough! I am not fixated on essence unlike others!" It glared at Muraki a moment longer, daring him to disagree.

Tsuzuki knelt before Hisoka. Much to his relief, the cuts inflicted by Muraki's nails had already healed. He inspected Hisoka's bare skin. The curse marks were completely gone. His spiritual sense detected nothing.

Muraki sighed as he pulled out his cigarette pack and lighter. "It will be near-impossible to conceal you from Duke Ashitarote's surveillance in this form," he told the panther.

The panther rubbed its neck against Muraki's leg. "I only did it because he asked it of me. He is not yet prepared to reveal himself."

Tsuzuki wrapped his trenchcoat around Hisoka's shoulders. "Hisoka, can you hear me? Are you all right?"

Hisoka didn't answer. He didn't have to. His dazed green eyes, glittering with tears, were damning enough.

Tsuzuki busied himself with tying the belt. This was all his fault. He had endangered Hisoka with his selfish and reckless behaviour. He wasn't fit to be Hisoka's partner any longer.

The time for hiding was over.

"I didn't expect much in return from you," Tsuzuki said to Muraki, "since I know what you're like." He dabbed away Hisoka's tears with the sleeve of his coat. "But I had hoped you'd have the decency to leave him out of this."

Muraki took a drag from his cigarette. "All I did was exchange pleasantries. I thought it would be impolite not to reacquaint myself with my puppet for old times' sake."

Tsuzuki shot him a withering glare. "If he's your puppet, then where are his strings?" He turned Hisoka around so Muraki could see. "How can he still be your puppet when he's free of his red strings?"

"So you knew." Muraki's gaze narrowed. "You knew all along. Was it your idea to mask my curse?"

"Your curse hasn't been masked, Muraki. Your curse is gone. Only those who crave energy can sustain a curse on their victim. As you gained energy from me, so your curse eventually disappears. When you unsealed my essence, you gave up your role as a puppet master for good." Tsuzuki carried Hisoka up in his arms, then halted.

Wispy dark shadows rose from the ground to envelop Hisoka. Like pre-dawn mist clinging to mountains, the shadows clung to his clothing and nestled in the folds, covering him in a sheer film of darkness.

A kagetsu spell.

"I suppose that's true," Muraki agreed mildly. "I do not require his spiritual energy any longer." But his gaze was sly and knowing through the haze of cigarette smoke. "But what is this? Perhaps he has swapped one set of strings for another, ne?"

"This isn't a curse! It's a..." A tendril of shadow lingered over Hisoka's cheek, distracting Tsuzuki in mid-sentence.

Muraki sauntered forward for a closer look. "Why, it's positively caressing him." He let out a wry chuckle. "So is this a kagetsu love charm? A shadow seduction spell, perhaps?"

"Shut up!" Tsuzuki whirled around, placing Hisoka out of Muraki's reach. "Tatsumi would never do such a thing!"

"Why not? The boy is cute and attractive, ne? Especially when he is helpless and vulnerable as he is now. I know you've been tempted by his beauty, as I was long ago - and I'm sure your secretary isn't blind to his youthful charms either."

"I said shut up!" Jealousy reared its ugly head, robbing Tsuzuki of rational thought. Those evening lessons to teach Hisoka kagetsu magic were an ideal pretext for an after-hours affair. Once Hisoka's mind was lulled by the cloaking shadows, Tatsumi would have the freedom to do whatever he liked...and Hisoka would be powerless to resist. Instead of stroking Hisoka with evanescent shadows, Tatsumi could caress him with his bare hands...

"As God of Wood, you have the capacity to wield the same control over shadows too." Muraki's voice was low and conspiratorial. "Just as Wind is the active Yang corollary of Metal, so Shadow is the Yang corollary of Wood. When you awaken on the full moon, you'll be able to do everything the secretary can - plus much, much more. You can take your place as kagetsu master - the fitting title for one who wields Wood energy, the energy of life."

"So you say."

"Indeed I do. I've been trying to tell you for the past five nights." Muraki walked around to face him. "Accept your destiny, and everything could be yours in less than three days' time." He gestured at Hisoka with his cigarette. "You could dispel the secretary's spell with a mere wave of your hand...or manipulate the shadows yourself to make him yours."

Tsuzuki studied the restless shadows as they flickered and trembled over the dazed Hisoka. Kagetsu power his? It defied belief. But neither was he immune to temptation, and the idea of making Hisoka his was a long-held fantasy.

"He's so cute in his sleep, isn't he? Innocent and untouched - like a bud before it blooms. And I suppose on some level he still is, you know. His sensual nature remains locked inside him - just waiting for you to awaken it with your gentle touch."

Once his prickly defences were breached, Hisoka wouldn't fight or resist. Hisoka would accept him being on top...especially once the shadows kept him bound and helpless.

Tsuzuki clamped down on the traitorous idea. He wouldn't do that to Hisoka. He refused to use Hisoka to slake his lust...and he couldn't believe Tatsumi would've done such a thing either. "What about you? Don't you mind?"

"Not at all." Muraki took another drag from his cigarette. "You long to take charge during our couplings, ne? I'm simply suggesting a convenient outlet for you when you're in the mood to be on top."

"A convenient outlet," Tsuzuki repeated flatly.

"Take it from me, Tsuzuki-san." Muraki began to saunter off. "With his shorter stature and slighter build, the boy would be ideal for the task. As the one who broke him in, I can vouch for-"

"What if he's not the one I want? What then?"

Muraki didn't turn around. "Then feel free to choose from this world and the next once the moon is full." He seized the indignant panther by the scruff of its neck. "You will have all the worlds in your grasp by then."

"Do not abandon the Light! The Light must be worshipped and glorified!"

"I've done my fair share of worshipping." Muraki dragged the big cat behind him. "There are times even a god requires solitude from his worshippers."

The panther hissed and growled its displeasure.

Tsuzuki watched him go, then looked down at the shadows nestled around Hisoka. This wasn't a love charm. It was a small protective spell to guard the bearer from harm - the kagetsu equivalent of an activated barrier fuda.

Hisoka would never have agreed to such a spell - his fierce pride would never have allowed it. Tatsumi must have cast it in secret when Hisoka was otherwise occupied in practising his kagetsu mind techniques. He would've had to keep it discreet and inconspicuous to avoid attracting Hisoka's attention.

Yet despite its shadowy origins, the motivation for Tatsumi's spell was crystal clear.

_You don't trust me, do you, Tatsumi? You don't trust me to keep Hisoka safe during an assignment._

He laid Hisoka down among the leaves and grass, then reached inside his black trenchcoat for an illusion fuda.

Hisoka's lips parted slightly. Soft and pale pink, and all too tempting to kiss.

_Maybe you're right._

Tsuzuki picked up Hisoka's hand. He watched the charmed shadows nestling in the fold of Hisoka's clothing, quivering restlessly. Carefully he turned the hand over to expose the inner wrist, brought it to his lips in a chaste kiss, and suddenly nipped the flesh hard.

The shadows flew up to push him back, but they were too late. A small bleeding cut was formed.

Tsuzuki felt the sweet intoxicating taste explode in his mouth and go straight to his head, making him giddy. Quickly he spat it out, then pressed the paper charm against the cut. When enough blood had been absorbed by the fuda, he held it between the index and middle finger of one hand and began reciting the spell.

* * *

Hisoka huddled himself into a ball on the ground. He was naked, alone. A harsh spotlight shone down on him from above, blinding him. The sound of his own voice echoed out of the surrounding darkness:

_Useless. You're useless, useless._

He looked down at his bent knees. Glowing red lines marked his skin, winding its way over the contours of his flesh. Slowly he extended his arms. The same red lines curled over his hands, around his wrists, along the length of both arms, down his torso.

A deep sardonic voice echoed around him, overlaid with his own: _I engraved this curse on your body so it would penetrate your flesh to your very bones. Even if you're reduced to a single cell, my curse shall remain._

Hisoka blocked his ears to no avail.

_Do you consider yourself useless, boy? Then allow me to give you a purpose. You shall be my little puppet...and these lovely red lines shall be your strings, ne?_

"No, I'm not! I'm not your puppet!"

_But you are, from your emerald green eyes to every inch of your ivory skin. I've owned many fine dolls, but none dance at my command like you. So come to me, little puppet._

"I won't! I'm not going anywhere!"

_But you must be lonely there on your own: neglected, unloved. I know exactly how you feel. Come here. Let me hold you once more. In my arms, you'll rediscover your true purpose-_

Hisoka could feel his cheeks flush with shame. His skin tingled and burned. "Shut up! Shut up and leave me alone!"

_-as my dear little puppet._

Hisoka scrunched his eyes shut. He refused to cry. Crying would be the ultimate humiliation. But Muraki knew just how to zero in on his greatest weakness: the fragile self-esteem he went to such pains to hide beneath his guise of prickly aloofness.

Maybe it was true. Maybe that was all he was good for. His mother had rejected him, afraid of his uncanny empathic insight. His father had ignored him, leaving it to other clan members to train him in the samurai arts. He had never felt wanted by anyone as a child.

_Do not mourn, boy. I know how you feel, for your wretched life is an echo of mine. I won't reject you. I won't turn you away. I still have a use for you. So come here. Come to me. Come..._

At least Muraki wanted him. At least Muraki had a use for him.

A new voice spoke out of the darkness. It was low, strained - as if the speaker was holding back strong emotion: _Please..._

Hisoka's head jerked up.

_Please take care of him for me, Kurosaki-kun._

Hisoka swallowed hard. "Tatsumi-san?"

_I couldn't bear to be with him. It broke me completely. I was too weak. But not you, Kurosaki-kun. Not you._

Hisoka rubbed his eyes and sat up, his curse marks and nudity forgotten. Behind the warmth of Tatsumi's voice, there was something else - a terrible sadness. He squinted against the light. "Tatsumi-san, is that you?"

_I ran away from him - far, far away. After me, he's had countless partners desert him - until now. You are his partner now. So please take care of him._

"I...I've tried, Tatsumi-san. I've tried, but I'm nothing but a nuisance to him."

_Please stay by his side. Please do your best to support him._

"But my best isn't good enough! Look, I do my best to make sure he doesn't get hurt, while he does his best to make sure I don't get hurt...which means we just tiptoe around each other and get nowhere!"

_Please do your best, Kurosaki-kun. Your kind heart and empathic abilities enable you to understand him better than the rest of us._

"What use was that when he summoned Touda? He became so depressed he wanted to destroy himself and there was nothing I could do to stop him! I couldn't change his mind..."

Flickering red lights lit up the darkness. They multiplied around him, growing stronger and brighter. Dark smoke billowed around him. The acrid smell of charcoal assailed his nostrils - and with it, the memory of that horrific laboratory fire.

Hisoka closed his eyes, remembering. "I never told anyone this...but he wasn't sad or upset in that inferno as he waited to die. Although he had tears running down his face, he had a blissful smile on his face - a real smile, not the fake smile he normally wears. Honestly, I'd never seen him so...so happy."

A warm coat was draped around his shoulders. "You care for him very much, don't you, Kurosaki-kun?"

The voice no longer echoed around him - it was right in front of him.

Hisoka opened his eyes. The flames were gone. Tatsumi knelt before him in the circle of light. He was dressed as usual minus his jacket: neatly pressed brown vest and suit trousers, crisp white shirt, striped blue tie perfectly straight. The metal rims of his glasses gleamed, obscuring his eyes. The wispy strands of brown hair falling over his forehead were the only softening feature in his brisk, business-like appearance.

Hisoka flushed and clutched the jacket around him. "I...I do, Tatsumi-san. Tsuzuki...he's the family I never had. He made me feel welcome and helped me find a home in the Shoukanka. He's done so much for me...but I couldn't do anything for him when it mattered the most. All I could do was join him in Touda's flames, because I couldn't imagine life as a Shinigami without him. I failed him...and I failed you too."

Tatsumi leaned forward, his piercing blue gaze intent. "Is he the main reason you've accepted a tenure as shinigami for so long?"

"Well..." Tatsumi's dignified manner always managed to fill him with awe. "Yes, I suppose so."

Tatsumi lowered his gaze. "I see." His expression remained serene, yet Hisoka had the feeling he was disappointed with the answer.

"It's...it's my job to look after him, like you said...and Tsuzuki can be a real idiot at times."

Tatsumi's gaze remained downcast, but a rueful smile hovered over his lips. "How true, Kurosaki-kun."

Hisoka couldn't help noticing what long eyelashes Tatsumi had. When Tatsumi caught him staring, Hisoka flushed and looked down. He saw that the curse marks were no longer visible on his arms and legs.

"I have a new favour to ask of you, Kurosaki-kun. There is something else I'd like you to look after for me."

Tatsumi held out his hands. Between them was a miniature rosebush with a single white rosebud.

Hisoka peered down at it. "It's...beautiful." He was too entranced with it to notice the tender look Tatsumi gave him.

"It is, isn't it?"

Hisoka cupped the rosebud with his hands. It radiated a faint glow. "Where did you get it?"

"When it first came to us many years ago, it was suffering from a severe case of blight: its foliage was spotted, its buds dying before it could bloom. With a great deal of care and attention, it's gradually started to grow and thrive once more."

"Really? But it's still so small and fragile."

"Only on the outside, Kurosaki-kun." Tatsumi's warm gaze never left Hisoka's down-bent head. "The few spotted leaves left will be shed in time. Will you take good care of it for me?"

"All right, I'll do my best." Hisoka frowned when he noticed it wasn't a pot plant - it was planted firmly in the ground. "So I can't take it with me?"

"No, but you can take time out each day to tend to it, can't you?"

"Oh...of course, Tatsumi-san." Hisoka was too embarrassed with himself to notice the gentleness in Tatsumi's voice. "But I'm not familiar with growing roses...and I'm not sure where we are."

Tatsumi slid his glasses up his nose. "When you figure out where this rose grows, you'll know how best to give it the care and attention it needs."

Hisoka blinked. For a fleeting moment, Tatsumi didn't look like Tatsumi at all. There was a sly glint in his eye that seemed out of character...and then Tatsumi was standing up, brisk and business-like once more.

"Until we meet again, Kurosaki-kun." With those parting words, he melted into the darkness.

Thoroughly confused, Hisoka studied the rosebush once more. Why him? Why trust him again after his failure to care for Tsuzuki? Why not ask someone else in the Shoukanka?

A shrivelled spotted leaf on one of the branches caught his eye. He carefully pulled it off. The white rosebud glowed brighter and brighter, until his entire vision was filled with its radiant glow.

* * *

Hisoka squinted and held up his hand against the glare. Late afternoon sunlight peeked through his fingers. He was lying on the ground, fully dressed, surrounded by leaves and grass.

He quickly sat up, then put his hands to his head. He felt dizzy, disoriented. How did he get here? Next to him was a scrunched-up paper charm. A few metres away were Gushoshin Elder and Younger, both asleep on their feet.

Muraki's work.

Hisoka scrambled unsteadily to his feet. Muraki had been here. The last thing he remembered was talking to Muraki...

But Muraki was gone. All he could see was a massive fig tree before him, the biggest he had ever seen. It dwarfed all other trees in the park with its thick trunk and extensive leafy canopy.

How odd. No tree that big had stood there before.

As he approached, he saw Tsuzuki standing at the base of the gnarled trunk. His head was bowed, his shoulders hunched as he pressed his hands against the trunk. He looked as if he was using all his physical strength to push the tree down.

Hisoka ran towards him, almost stumbling over the thick tree roots protruding through the ground. "Tsuzuki!"

Tsuzuki whirled around. "Hisoka!" He dusted his hands. "You're awake at last! Did you have a nice nap?"

"I wasn't napping! I came here looking for you." He noticed the beads of sweat on Tsuzuki's brow. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing much." Tsuzuki smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Awful. I've got a splitting headache." Hisoka rubbed his forehead. "What happened? Where's Muraki?"

Tsuzuki frowned. "Your hair's a mess. Let me get those leaves out of your hair." He reached a hand out to Hisoka's head.

"Don't change the subject! I can look after my own hair!" Hisoka combed his hair roughly with his fingers. "Where have you been? What did Muraki do to you?"

Tsuzuki let his hand fall. "Don't worry about Muraki. I'll take care of him."

"It's not Muraki I'm worried about!"

"You don't have to worry about me either." Tsuzuki turned away, evading his gaze. "I don't want you to worry about me ever again."

"Then tell me what's going on!" A horrible suspicion dawned on Hisoka. "You haven't just been investigating him, have you? You've been seeing him in secret! You...you idiot! Haven't you learned your lesson? You're allowing him to manipulate you all over again!"

After an eternity, Tsuzuki finally looked at him. His gaze was sad. "Hisoka, you were wrong about me."

"About you being an idiot? I don't think so! You've been an idiot for as long as I've known you, always letting others push you around and never standing up for yourself-"

"I'm not human, Hisoka."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

Tsuzuki unbuttoned his trenchcoat. He wore no shirt. Rivulets of blood dripping from each shoulder down his chest. "Look." He shrugged off the coat and turned around.

Each shoulder blade was covered with a carpet of bloody black quills.

Hisoka stared, horrified. "What...what is this?"

"A sign that I'm growing in Wood energy." Tsuzuki turned back to face him. "I had no idea I possessed power over Wood because this energy used to be dormant inside me. But now it's been awakened-"

"Wood energy? There's no such thing!"

"I thought so too, until Muraki explained it to me. You see, I-"

"And you believe him, despite all the things he's done, despite the way he drove you to the brink of insanity? How can you be so foolish? You're the biggest idiot I've ever met!"

"Hisoka, please listen to me. These feathers are a sign that I'm not human-"

"No, you listen! We've got to get back to Meifu and show this to Chief Konoe! They look like the start of demon wings - the wings you had when you were possessed by Saagatanus! Muraki must have found a way to reactivate that dog's curse!"

"It's not Saaga's curse," Tsuzuki explained. "Saaga is no more. I annihilated him once and for all."

"Annihilated him? When? How?"

"A few days ago. Muraki summoned him to the land of the living so he and I could do battle-"

"Then this is his doing! He set you up! Don't you get it? Saaga first took possession of you after he injured you in a fight! Muraki must've set up that fight so Saaga could take possession of you again! That's how you got these feathers! It's a sign that Saaga's taking over your body!"

"No, this is different. I don't feel as if I'm being possessed this time-"

"As if you can tell! You're the last person to notice!" Hisoka seized his hand and dragged him away from the tree and towards the dozing Gushoshin. "You may not recall the havoc you wreaked the last time you were possessed, but I do! We've got to get you back to the Shoukanka right now!"

Tsuzuki grimaced. Further explanations would be useless - Hisoka wouldn't let him get a word in edgeways. Much like Tatsumi before him, Hisoka only saw him as a fool in need of protection.

"If I am possessed, then you're endangering yourself by being near me."

"And it wouldn't be the first time," Hisoka retorted.

Tsuzuki stiffened. He deserved that and more for the pain and suffering he'd put Hisoka through. He looked down at Hisoka's hand firmly gripping his own, and came to a firm decision.

He wouldn't endanger Hisoka or any of his Shoukanka colleagues any longer.

Tsuzuki came to a sudden halt and yanked Hisoka towards him. Taken by surprise, Hisoka slammed into Tsuzuki's bare chest.

"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka shoved him away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Tsuzuki seized him by the wrists. "What do you think?" He curled his mouth in a lascivious leer as he pulled Hisoka close. "Do you remember the lovely evening I hacked your delectable body in two?"

Hisoka froze. "Tsuzuki...?"

"You want that fool back? Surely not." Tsuzuki leaned over him, a devilish glint in his eye. "He's too much of a coward to go after what he wants - unlike me."

Hisoka struggled against him. "Let me go!"

Tsuzuki nuzzled his cheek. Shadows flew from the folds of Hisoka's clothes to cover his face, pressing him back. "You think he hasn't wanted to do this to you too? You're so young, so pliant - who could resist your lovely flesh?" He pushed against the shadows and licked the whorls of Hisoka's ear. "You were excited by the idea of being alone with me, weren't you? Your feigned embarrassment didn't fool me one bit."

"Get away from me!" Hisoka hit at his chest. "You make me sick!"

Tsuzuki kissed him - a hard, brutal kiss that demanded submission. The charmed shadows dispersed, confused by the mix of violence and passion. Hisoka went limp for a stunned second before he wrenched his mouth away. His lower lip was bleeding. His wide green eyes were stricken with horror and disbelief.

Tsuzuki eased his grip on Hisoka's wrists, equally stunned. He'd gone too far.

Hisoka seized advantage of the reprieve. He punched Tsuzuki smack on the jaw.

Tsuzuki staggered backwards and fell flat on the ground. His face throbbed in agony, and blood filled his mouth. For a teenage boy, Hisoka packed a vicious right hook.

"You may have escaped before but I'm going to seal you properly this time, Saagatanus!" Standing over him, Hisoka closed his eyes and placed his hands together, index fingers joined.

Tsuzuki struggled onto his hands and knees. In front of him, he caught sight of a twisted tree root emerging between patches of grass. Dimly he heard Hisoka recite the opening verses of the binding spell, and it filled him with bittersweet pride.

_I trained you well, Hisoka. I trained you well._

He gripped the root as tight as he could, and focused his mind in a silent prayer of his own.

_Forgive me. The energy I channelled into you...please return it back!_

Wood energy coursed up his arm into his shoulder blades, through his body. His upper back was tingling, burning.

Twin bony appendages erupted from each shoulder blade, splattering blood everywhere.

Hisoka opened his eyes. He blinked, but he didn't pause in his prayer for a second.

The appendages arced high into the air, over Tsuzuki's head. Black feathers sprouted from joint to wingtip, row after row extending to form glossy black wings.

Tsuzuki came to his feet, his wings extended up behind him. He could feel the atmospheric pressure around him changing in intensity. A whirlwind formed around him, accompanied by a wall of crackling static electricity. His eyes met Hisoka's through the binding spell's barrier.

"Tell Chief Konoe I refuse to deliver the summons. If DaiOh-sama wants these souls so badly, he can come and collect them himself. This dog has broken free of the leash." Tsuzuki fanned his wings wide, then swept them across in front of him.

Hisoka kept chanting. With each verse, seal upon seal was being laid down over the spiritual binds. Slowly but surely, the spell was working its magic.

The black wings disintegrated into a flurry of black feathers. They were swept into the whirlwind of the binding spell, obscuring Tsuzuki from view.

When Hisoka finished the spell, the black feathers fluttered to the ground. Tsuzuki was gone.

The huge fig tree overhead was dead. Barren of all leaves, it was now a hulking black stump, its outstretched branches forming jagged cracks against the pink-orange glow of sunset.

* * *

Muraki sat alone in the waiting room of the intensive care unit, arms folded. The panther had been banished to the penthouse apartment as punishment. He had cast a spiritual barrier around the premises to keep the animal in place.

It felt good to have his magical powers back. He had missed the thrill of casting his own spells. Tsuzuki's essence was indeed the tonic he had needed, and their sexual encounters the ideal method for feeding...until now.

He didn't want a Tsuzuki who remained ignorant of his true nature. But neither did he want a Tsuzuki who insisted on asserting his dominance in bed. As a major shikigami, it was Tsuzuki's prerogative to establish his rule over others. But as the one who awakened him, Muraki sought another fate for himself: a vastly different fate.

Offering the boy as plaything was the best compromise. Tsuzuki obviously found him suitable too - why else spend over an hour with him?

His scheme was going according to plan. Jealousy would be irrational under the circumstances.

Through the one-way observation window, he watched the girl in the isolation room. Keiko's condition remained serious with no improvement. The thread tying her to the material world was tenuous. Despite the return of his own spiritual powers, there was nothing he could do to pull her back to consciousness.

All he could do was delay her soul from its journey to the afterworld. Kill her before she died from natural causes, then imprison her fleeing soul with a powerful barrier spell. It was the same method he had used before in his quest to increase his own spiritual energy.

He felt for the scalpel in his breast pocket. If he could not convince Tsuzuki to save her, then he would be a thorn in Meifu's side once more. Murdering her himself was better than allowing Enma to harvest her soul as he pleased.

A breeze blew through the small room. A little whirlwind of black feathers descended from the ceiling.

Muraki held out his hands to catch them. "Tsuzuki-san..."

Tsuzuki materialised before him. He was shirtless and hunched over, arms clutched around his bloodied shoulders, outstretched black wings cramped by the low ceiling. Slowly he lifted his head. His face was marked with cuts and bruises.

"I told Hisoka the truth. He thinks I'm a demon. He tried to seal me with a binding spell." Tsuzuki's lips were curled in a pained smile. "He didn't do too bad, huh?"

"What happened?" Muraki eyed the black wings suspiciously. "Did you actually allow the boy to-"

"No! I absorbed Wood energy from the fig tree." Tsuzuki wiped his cheek - the abrasions were already healing. "I think I took too much. Once I started, I couldn't stop."

"This is at it should be." Taking hold of Tsuzuki's hand, Muraki brought it to his lips and licked away the trace of blood. "You hold the power of life and death in your hands, ne?"

Tsuzuki pulled his hand away. Behind him, the black wings folded awkwardly against his back. "I used an illusion fuda to enter Hisoka's mind. I heard the words you used to torment him."

"Really?" Muraki lifted a brow. "And while you were there, did you take the opportunity to enter anything else?"

Tsuzuki looked him straight in the eye. "What do you think?"

Muraki studied his features for a long moment, then sighed and shook his head. "I should've taken advantage of the boy while I had the chance. The opportunity was clearly wasted on you."

Tsuzuki grabbed his shoulder. "If you go anywhere near him, we're through. You got that? I'm not sharing you with anyone."

"Why, Tsuzuki-san, you actually sound jealous! How refreshing indeed." Muraki shook him off. "Does it anger you to see me devote my attentions to another?"

"You know it does." Tsuzuki flushed at the admission, but refused to be ashamed. "Why didn't you tell me your cat familiar was once a shikigami?"

"You never asked. You wouldn't have believed me anyway." Muraki walked over to the observation window.

"So are all demons former shikigami?"

"Indeed they are. Demons are the fallen shikigami who rebelled against Enma's decree and rejected the virtual eden of Gensoukai. Once upon a time, shikigami and humans shared the material world together, until resources grew scarce. Humanity, being confined to physical form, were more vulnerable and soon became a threatened species. So Enma and his finest minds created Gensoukai as a temporary refuge for the shikigami. Once the material world had recovered, he promised the shikigami they would be allowed to return."

"Return here? To the land of the living?"

"Yes. However, not everyone believed him. Some shikigami refused to obey. A prolonged conflict ensued, until an armistice was reached many years later. In exchange for their freedom, the rebel shikigami would be partitioned from the rest. They would forfeit their elemental energy to become the demons we know today - preying on the rich spiritual energy of humans to sustain themselves. The Fire they wield is no longer their own. It is energy they have taken from the souls of humans and other living creatures."

"But why refuse the chance to live in Gensoukai with their powers intact? I've seen it myself, and it's a beautiful place-"

"Is it? As beautiful as your gilded prison in Meifu?"

"But couldn't they see the danger they posed to this world and humanity?"

"Why should humans have precedence over shikigami, apart from serving as Enma's exclusive energy source?" Muraki indicated the row of beds in the unit, each occupied by an ill patient. "Like these ones right here, for example. Each of them would make a tasty morsel for Enma, ne? But Keiko is the youngest, a babe compared to the others. Her youthful untried spirit would be the sweetest to taste. I can see why he'd issue a summons for her first."

"You mean this?" Tsuzuki took out a sheet of paper from the pocket of his trousers. He held it up so Muraki could read the three names on it.

Muraki's gaze narrowed. "You didn't tell me the summons was not for her alone. What will you do with it?"

"It doesn't matter what I do, because Hisoka has a duplicate copy." Tsuzuki crushed it in his fist and focused his mind. He opened his hand to reveal powdered grey ash. "The energy that consumes others within itself, yet can regenerate and bring eternal life. Is this what you meant?" He let the ash fall to the floor.

"Indeed." Muraki looked at the ash, then at him. Surprise mingled with a new respect was there in his gaze. "Your mastery of your power is growing."

"I could do the same to you right here - drain you of your energy until you're nothing more than dust and ashes. It's what you deserve for the things you did to Hisoka." Tsuzuki reached out his hand to touch Muraki's cheek. "You should be trembling in terror of me."

Muraki didn't flinch. "Is that what you want?"

Tsuzuki let his fingertips trace Muraki's unsmiling mouth, then slide under the angular jawbone down to the smooth pale flesh of his throat. "No. Youth may taste sweeter, but I think I prefer the rich flavour of a man in his prime."

A smouldering gleam sparked to life in Muraki's true eye. He seized Tsuzuki's hand and brought it to his lips. "When the full moon rises, everyone will be trembling in terror and awe of you."

"We may not have that long. Enma will send other shinigami to deliver the summons and arrest me for insubordination."

"Then we must do our best to accelerate your development. More frequent feeding sessions are in order, ne?"

Tsuzuki lowered his gaze. Hisoka and the other shinigami would thank him later for his dereliction of duty. He could no longer serve Enma and be a member of the Shoukanka. With his unsealed powers, he was potentially more dangerous than any demon now.

They were better off without him...and so was Muraki. But Muraki needed him and his essence too much.

Tsuzuki only hoped he could energise Muraki with enough power so Muraki could save himself when the time came.

Muraki lifted his jaw. "What is it? Why are you sad?"

"I...I'm not. There's just something I need to do." He took out a barrier fuda and transformed it into a crested white swallow. "Watch over her for me," he said.

The bird trilled in assent. It flew through the glass and perched at the foot of the girl's bed.

Tsuzuki turned to Muraki. "Well?" He held out his hand. "What are we waiting for?"

Muraki smiled took his hand. "Nothing at all."

They dematerialised as one in a whirlwind of black and white feathers.

* * *

Notes:

1. Hisoka's flashback sequence quotes dialogue from Demon's Trill (Theria translation) and Storybook arc (Senshigakuen translation).

2. Muraki's mention of Hisoka coming from a cursed family line is a reference from YnM Volume 12 (published in Japan early 2010). It's also found in Theria's Hanayume translations.

3. Thanks so much who have left feedback. If you notice any plot holes or inconsistencies with earlier chapters, please let me know. I try to maintain consistency as best I can, but I find it really hard at times because I am so slow.


	31. Hunting the jade rabbit

Hisoka materialised inside Tatsumi's office, clutching an unconscious Gushoshin under each arm. His clothes were rumpled and frayed, while his chestnut hair was tangled and sticking up at odd angles.

Tatsumi dropped the pen he was holding. "Kurosaki-kun? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Hisoka's only reply was a hostile glare. He marched past Tatsumi's desk and through the adjoining doorway into Chief Konoe's office.

"Tsuzuki's gone missing, Chief. He's been possessed by Saagatanus again. I tried to seal him with a binding spell, but he broke free and escaped."

"Saagatanus?" Chief Konoe stood up, bushy eyebrows raised. "It can't be! Are you sure?"

"I saw the black wings sprouting from Tsuzuki's back. He was acting out of character too. The real Tsuzuki would never have..." Hisoka flushed, his cheeks bright red.

"I see." Chief Konoe exchanged looks with Tatsumi, who was standing in the doorway.

"Nothing happened! I didn't give him a chance to do anything." Hisoka dumped both bird spirits on the floor. "Muraki's mixed up in this. I think he cast a spell on the Gushoshin. I'm going to need back-up to find them."

Tatsumi cleared his throat. "Chief, I request leave from my secretarial duties to accompany Kurosaki-kun to the land of the living."

"No!" Hisoka's vehemence surprised them all, including Hisoka himself. "I mean...I'd rather have Watari-san with me. He told me he's done some background research for Tsuzuki-"

"Very well. Take both Tatsumi and Watari with you." Chief Konoe's gruff voice left no room for negotiation.

Inside the elevator, Hisoka went to the far corner, folded his arms across his chest and stared at the floor. Tatsumi pressed the button to Watari's lab and remained by the door.

"Do you have any objection to my assistance on this assignment?" he asked mildly.

Hisoka shook his head. "No, of course not. I...I didn't want to inconvenience you, that's all."

"It's no inconvenience, Kurosaki-kun. The welfare of all EnmaCho employees is my responsibility as secretary."

_Some more than others._ Only by biting his lower lip did Hisoka kept the retort to himself.

Tatsumi didn't trust him. Tatsumi didn't believe in him. Tatsumi had kept the truth from him like everyone else. How was he supposed to protect Tsuzuki when he was the last to know what was going on? By withholding what he knew of Muraki's involvement, Tatsumi had placed him in an untenable position - and it left him seething.

They found Watari sitting at his desk, staring into space. His glasses lay atop an open book. 003 was fluttering above his head, hooting to catch his attention.

"Watari-san?" Hisoka shook his shoulder. "Watari-san, wake up!"

Tatsumi waved a hand before Watari's blank gaze. "He seems to be in a trance. Don't tell me he's taken one of his crazy potions again." He turned the swivel chair around so Watari faced him. "Watari-san! Can you hear me?"

No response. Watari was staring past him into the distance. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

Tatsumi touched his forehead. "Kurosaki-kun, bring a glass of water." When Hisoka was out of the room, he lightly slapped Watari's face. "Hey, Watari-san! Wake up!"

"Critical updates downloaded," Watari murmured in a monotone. "Reboot in progress."

Tatsumi frowned. Had Watari started acting like a computer after staring at one for too long?

Watari suddenly blinked and looked up. "Hey, Tatsumi! What a nice surprise!" His brown eyes crinkled in a cheerful smile. "What are you doing down here?"

"Err...I..." Tatsumi was at a loss for words. "Are you all right? Do you remember what happened?"

"I'm fine! I was just at my desk when..." The colour drained from his face. He swiveled his chair around, and stared at the book for several seconds. "I...I must've had a migraine attack."

Relieved at seeing her master return to normal, 003 landed on Watari's shoulder and peered closely at him.

Tatsumi watched his hunched shoulders. "I didn't know you suffered from migraine."

"It's been a while...but I'll be fine." He shut the book and put on his glasses. "Oh, Bon! You're here as well! How are you today?"

Hisoka handed him the glass of water. "Are you all right? You were in a daze when we came down here."

"Hahaha! No, no, it's nothing serious! It's just a migraine!" He took a gulp of water. "I feel much better. Now what can I do for you?"

As Hisoka explained the day's events, Tatsumi went around Watari to take a peek at the book. It was an old leather-bound Bible with a cross engraved in gold on the cover.

"Saagatanus possess Tsuzuki again? Oh no, Bon, that's impossible! Saaga's not in a position to bother Tsuzuki. If anything-"

"But I saw the black wings on his back! I swear, it was exactly like last time! I'm sure Muraki's collaborating with Saagatanus in some way to take over Tsuzuki's body! We've got to go back and find him before it's too late!"

"Okay, okay! You can count on me!" He patted Hisoka on the back. "Don't worry, Bon. Tsuzuki is tougher than he looks. We'll find him soon enough."

003 landed on Hisoka's shoulder and hooted her support.

"What were you reading?" Tatsumi flicked through the pages of the Bible. "Something relevant to this case?"

"Nah, nothing much. I was just brushing up on my knowledge of Christianity." Watari chuckled sheepishly and scratched his head. "I was never much good at religious studies. It always sent me to sleep."

* * *

In the Hall of Candles, Hakushaku was far from happy. After much debate with Watson, he had decided to keep the violet candle in one of the underground dungeons. Watson insisted that a room lined by sandstone would be easier to fireproof than coating the walls of an elegant salon room with fireproof plaster.

Much to Hakushaku's annoyance, some of his prized collection of bondage sex toys had to be moved elsewhere to make room.

"I suppose it makes no difference," he sighed as Watson trudged past, puny frame dwarfed by the stack of whips, handcuffs, chains, vibrators and other assorted items he carried in his arms. "It's not as if I get to use them much nowadays."

From behind prison bars, the violet flame burned bright and strong. The candle wax remained perilously low. The puddle of melted wax was growing in size around it.

"Nothing in the material world lasts forever. Forming attachments to mortals only ends in heartbreak and sorrow." He turned away, his mask shaking from side to side. "Silly child. He's been reincarnated enough times to learn, yet he insists on making the same mistakes again and again." He tsked to himself as he made his way upstairs. "Well, I hope he enjoys it while it lasts. Once the gold raven snares the jade rabbit, I'm afraid the reckoning will begin."

* * *

Tsuzuki lay on his side in Muraki's bed, one black wing stretched against the mattress, the other curled over his head as if he wanted to hide his face in embarrassment. He was nude apart from the downy feathers that lined his nape, shoulders and back. He trembled, lips parted as he panted for breath. He clutched the sheets for support.

"What will you do...if I lose my power? What if...my essence runs out?"

Muraki was seated between Tsuzuki's thighs, his head bent over Tsuzuki's crotch. One of Tsuzuki's knees was hooked over his shoulder, while the other was left to splay open across Muraki's lap. When Tsuzuki tried to bring the knee up, Muraki pushed it down, spreading his thighs apart for easier access.

"Fool." Muraki lapped reverently at the crown of the erection with his tongue. "You and your essence are eternal."

"But...something might happen." Tsuzuki's breath caught in his throat as Muraki swallowed him down again. "My essence might be resealed...my power taken from me." He tried to steel himself against the exquisite delight. "Would you still do this...if I wasn't rich in Wood energy?"

"Of course not." Muraki's teeth nibbled at the smooth flesh of his inner thigh. "What would be the use?" From his position between Tsuzuki's parted thighs, Muraki eyed him with sardonic amusement, deliberately ignoring the slick erection prodding his cheek and jaw.

The message was crystal clear: he was the helpless prey, Muraki the triumphant predator.

"Then again," Muraki continued with a sly smile, "as long as you nourish me, I won't need to seek out another. It all depends on you, doesn't it?" He rubbed his cheek against Tsuzuki's inner thigh, then lowered his head once more, saving Tsuzuki the effort of making a reply.

Muraki didn't want an answer; he was only after essence. A few minutes later, Tsuzuki's desire-wracked body was more than ready to grant Muraki his wish.

The black panther lay on the floor, glowing green eyes watching them intently. When Muraki was done, it began lashing its tail loudly against the floor.

Muraki glared across at it. "What do you want?"

"Your lecherous conduct is unseemly. You feed from him too much. You must show proper respect to the Light!"

"Be silent. As the one who awakened Tsuzuki-san, I know best how to accelerate his development."

The panther raised its head high. The drumming tail grew louder. "I am here to bear witness to the Light, not to watch you indulge in a feeding orgy."

Tsuzuki propped himself up on his elbows. He'd completely forgotten about Muraki's feline familiar. Somehow being observed in the throes of passion felt more shameful when the observer was a large panther instead of a domestic cat.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" he said to the panther. His black wings swept over his shoulders like a feathered cape, providing a semblance of modesty.

"You remember me?"

"I think so." Tsuzuki studied it for a long moment. "Your eyes look familiar."

The panther rose to its feet and came towards him. "Then look closer. Look into my eyes and remember."

With an impatient sigh, Muraki lounged against the headboard, knees bent in front of him. "Go on. She has been longing to tell you, and your ears are finally attuned to hear her."

"She?" Tsuzuki turned back to the panther. "I didn't know you were a..."

But the panther was gone. Instead his entire vision was filled with aqua green, the beautiful blue-green colour of a warm tropical sea. It then faded into a dark grey, and suddenly he was surrounded by dark storm clouds and buffeted by a howling gale.

Tsuzuki turned around. Before him floated a bearded grey dragon with flowing white mane and a long serpentine body that seemed to disappear in the surrounding clouds. Her brilliant eyes, fringed by long lashes, glowed aqua green.

"I know you! Muraki summoned you into battle the first time I fought him in Nagasaki! You're...Ohryuu!"

The dragon blinked - and Tsuzuki found himself back in Muraki's bedroom once more.

"The very same," Muraki agreed. "It took you long enough."

"How was I supposed to recognise her? The last time I saw Ohryuu, she was a huge dragon!"

"Forgive me." Crestfallen, the panther hung its head. "I don't have the energy to reveal my true form."

"No, no! It's not your fault. You're still terrifying and impressive, even if you are sealed. I can see it in your eyes." Tsuzuki patted the creature's head as if it were an oversized pet dog.

Muraki raised an eyebrow.

The panther froze at his touch. "I...I am honoured you remember me."

"I hope Suzaku Nee-san wasn't too rough with you! She likes shrieking and breathing fire in battle, but she's really quite nice when you get to know her."

"Would you like to unseal Ohryuu, the Wind dragon?" Muraki asked.

"Me?" Tsuzuki withdrew his hand. "I don't know if I can. You said a powerful spellcaster sealed her-"

"Indeed, and it will take a powerful spellcaster to break it. Now that Wood energy is awakened within you, you have the power to leech the energy from any source - positive or negative - and harness it for yourself." Muraki shifted closer to Tsuzuki and ran his fingers over the downy feathers lining Tsuzuki's upper back. "Why don't you see if you have the power to unseal her and set her free?"

Tsuzuki swatted Muraki with his wing. "Who sealed her?"

"What does it matter? A spell is a spell is a spell." Muraki held the wingtip in front of him and extended the delicate limb. The black feathers fanned out before him. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Simply beautiful."

"Were you sealed in feline form after the battle in Nagasaki?" Tsuzuki asked the panther.

"No. I was sealed centuries ago. I remained in the form of a kitten until I was discovered by the one who bore witness to the Light. By drinking blood blessed by the Light, I was able to break free of the seal for several minutes at a time and assume my true form."

"I found her sheltering between trash cans in an alleyway one night," Muraki explained. He wrapped Tsuzuki's wing around his shoulders to create a makeshift wrap for himself. "Such is the fate of demons who refuse to accept Duke Ashitarote's authority."

"Then why can't she break free of the seal now? You still feed her, don't you?"

Muraki sighed. "My blood only offered temporary respite from the seal, and that was back when I was granted the indulgence of regenerative potential. Today my blood is not as potent as it once was. Now the best I can do is sustain her sealed form."

"But today I have been strengthened by the Light!" The piercing yowl was now a triumphant roar. "The Light has nourished us with his flesh and blood! Praise be to the Light!"

"Shh! Not so loud!"

"Indeed he has," Muraki replied. "But the big question is whether Tsuzuki-san will break your seal and set you free."

Tsuzuki's hand hovered above the animal's head. "Was it Enma-DaiOh who sealed her?"

Muraki's lips twisted. "Enma does not need to perform such menial tasks when he has his own official department, named in his honour, to do the work for him, does he?"

So it had to be a former Shinigami - perhaps someone who served in the Shoukanka long before he arrived in Meifu. Someone like him with strong emotional ties to the material world, who was willing to fight demons and reap souls so he or she could occasionally walk among the living again.

"There are obscure records in the JuOhCho database about a failed demonic revolt against Duke Ashitarote. It was supposedly led by a demon that used the power of Wind. I don't suppose you had anything to do with that, did you?" he asked the panther.

The creature's eyes glowed. "That was the last time I swirled through the clouds as a free agent. I didn't want to forfeit my Wind energy or be imprisoned in a virtual world." It sauntered to the far end of the bed, as if contemplating whether it could leap on the mattress to join them. At Muraki's forbidding glare, it settled for lounging on the carpeted floor.

"In Chinese folklore, she is known as Yinglong, the winged rain-dragon," Muraki said. "The kanji for her name means 'the dragon who answers.' When crops are threatened by drought, farmers would call on her for help. Using Wind to gather the clouds, she answers their prayers with plentiful rainfall."

"I always answer the prayers of those who call on me." The panther puffed out its chest, very proud with itself.

"So you're similar to Souryuu. Souryuu is a Water shikigami, while you use Wind to bring water as rain."

"Naturally. We dragons have close ties to water, regardless of our energy type - which was why the terms Duke Ashitarote negotiated with Enma were abhorrent to me." The panther snorted in disgust. "Why would I willingly sacrifice the cleansing purity of Wind for the foul stench of Fire?"

"Unseal Ohryuu," Muraki murmured. He pulled the wing up around his neck to create a feathery black scarf for himself. "Unseal Ohryuu so she can return to her rightful place in the heavens as bringer of rain."

Outside, a brilliant sunset cast the clear sky in burnished orange-pink. It would be a warm, humid evening. A cooling summer shower would bring welcome relief from the heat.

Tsuzuki slowly unfurled his wing from Muraki's shoulders. "If I unseal Ohryuu, who would she answer to - me or you?"

"Why wouldn't she answer to us both?" Muraki grasped the trailing wingtip and drew it back. "Now that you've abandoned Enma, our goal is one and the same."

Tsuzuki resented Muraki's proprietorial manner. The delicate flexor muscles of his wing trembled, resisting Muraki's grasp. "Is it? I'm not so sure."

Muraki's grip tightened. "Aren't you?"

"No, I'm not." Tsuzuki refused to be cowed. No matter what violence Muraki used, the black wings would regenerate like the rest of him. His innate Wood energy wouldn't be suppressed any longer.

Muraki seemed to realize this too. His stern expression eased into a lazy, seductive grin. "In that case, I must do my best to persuade you otherwise." He slid his hand up along the wing and shoulder, until his fingers idly stroked the downy nape of Tsuzuki's neck.

A tempting diversion, but hardly an answer. Tsuzuki lowered his head, as if to encourage his caress. "You don't answer to me, do you? You only answer to the full moon, Gyokuto."

Muraki's fingers froze.

"I've been remembering things ever since I started seeing you. I'm not sure if it's my own memories coming back or you're planting them in my mind...but they do strike a chord within me."

Muraki's fingers fell away. "What do you remember?"

"As a child, I was shunned for being different. I had no one to play with apart from my sister. So my mother would console me by making me look up at the night sky. She'd tell me there were spirits in the heavens waiting for me to call them, and one day they would be my friends. So I'd lift my arms up to the moon and call your name, because you were the only one I knew."

For once, Muraki was silent. His true eye gazed at Tsuzuki with a piercing intensity as if he was searching for something important.

"You took your time answering me, didn't you?" Tsuzuki reached up to brush away the silver bangs. The glowing retracted false eye didn't frighten him. "But it's all right. You don't have to hide yourself anymore. I'll wait for the full moon with you." He leaned forward to kiss Muraki on the forehead.

Muraki held him back. "Don't call me that."

"But you don't deny it, do you?"

Muraki closed his eyes. "The white rabbit sleeps, and yet he does not sleep. He has died, and yet he is not dead."

"Enough riddles, Muraki." Tsuzuki unfurled his black wings. "As you can see, I'm no white rabbit."

Muraki eyed them with hungry longing. "Neither am I." His hands crept up to ruffle the downy feathers lining Tsuzuki's back. "I'm no one's rabbit." He suddenly drew his nails down the length of Tsuzuki's back. Tufts of bloody black feathers fell onto the mattress.

Tsuzuki twitched and arched. He retaliated by digging his nails into Muraki's shoulders. "You said you were mine," he murmured against Muraki's ear. "I'll call you what I like."

Muraki seized one wing. Tsuzuki flapped to free it, but it was no use. With a brutal twist, Muraki dislocated the wing at the socket joint adjacent to his shoulder blade. The pain made Tsuzuki cry out.

"And you are mine," Muraki reminded him. There was a maniacal glitter of jealousy in his true eye. "No one else may feed from you. No one else may touch you. I have pledged more to you than anyone. Your flesh, your essence - from now on, every inch of you belongs to me!"

"I only let your cat feed from me because I wanted to be rid of my wings! You had just deserted me for Hisoka, remember? Why should I be exclusive to you when you're not exclusive to me?"

Muraki's anger settled into a brooding contemplation. "Now you know how I feel. I was jealous of your shinigami comrades. I was jealous of your twelve shikigami. I was jealous of anyone who happened to divert your attention from me." He let the wing go. "I don't want to be just another worshipper."

"What are you talking about? I don't have any worshippers apart from you-"

"Glory be to the Light!" the panther roared. "Let us give thanks to the Light that guides us!"

"-and Ohryuu, I guess."

"When you finally awaken, you will have countless worshippers." Muraki's tone was flat.

Would he? Tsuzuki couldn't imagine it. His shikigami had been forgotten over the centuries - he was the only one who called on them now. Why would he, God of Wood, fare any better?

"I don't want countless worshippers." Tsuzuki drew his broken wing around him. He could feel the tug of muscle and sinew knitting the joint back into place. "As a child, all I ever wanted was someone to play with - someone who would accept me for who I am." He reclined on the mattress, injured wing partially cloaking his nude body. "Someone I could call Gyokuto-sama."

"I'll never be your bunny, but I'm more than ready to play."

"Never ever?" The memory of the time a zombie-like Muraki willingly acquiesced to his advances came to mind. "Not even when you're under the influence of your mysterious kagetsu spell?"

"Never ever." Muraki's icy gaze promised retribution if Tsuzuki dared to repeat the experience.

Tsuzuki's arm moved beneath his wing in a slow, steady rhythm. "What do you know of Kinu, the gold raven who symbolises the sun?"

"The sun holds no interest for me." Muraki lay beside him. From this angle, he could just see Tsuzuki stroking himself beneath the cloaking feathers. "I only wait for the rise of the full moon."

"Kinu is rumoured to serve Enma-DaiOh."

Muraki's gaze narrowed. "So what does Kinu do? Sing in a gilded cage for Enma's amusement?

"Gushoshin Elder told me he works with the JuOhCho supercomputer. No one has ever met him in person, but he's said to be brilliant, all-knowing and wise."

"Really?" Muraki drawled. "Well, I suppose it's easy to claim to be all-knowing when you have Enma's database of human knowledge at your fingertips." He reached under Tsuzuki's wing. His sure, firm grip stroked and squeezed until Tsuzuki was erect once more.

"Mmm...maybe you're right. Still, I wish I could meet Kinu for myself." Tsuzuki reached across to reciprocate, only to find Muraki was already hard.

Muraki pushed Tsuzuki on his back and rolled on top. He slid their cocks together in a steady rocking motion. "What for?" he asked. "Do you want to play with him too?"

"No..." Tsuzuki's reply was more groan than answer. He couldn't escape, not with Muraki gripping his wrists like manacles. Pinned against the mattress, his injured wing still hurt...but it was rapidly overwhelmed by the erotic sensations of Muraki's cock rubbing against his. "I...I just wanted to ask him..."

"Ask him what?" Muraki's voice was a husky growl against Tsuzuki's throat.

"...what use Enma-DaiOh has for human knowledge...when he already owns the collective energy of billions of human souls." Tsuzuki wound his legs around Muraki's hips to bind them closer.

Muraki exhaled. "A good question." He lifted Tsuzuki's hips higher, until his erection slid between the cleft of Tsuzuki's ass. "A very...good...question."

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. He wasn't going to get an answer...and, to be honest, he didn't particularly care. There were other pressing urges that needed to be satisfied first.

Having done this so many times, he didn't require much preparation.

Tsuzuki's lips parted in a low moan as Muraki filled him to the hilt.

Even now, he didn't completely trust Muraki and his motives. He wasn't ready to unseal Ohryuu or restore life to a sick girl at the drop of a hat simply because Muraki asked it of him. But if Muraki ever found the self-discipline to withhold sexual favours as a bargaining chip...then Tsuzuki knew his resistance would crumble like a house of cards.

His hands, now free, clutched Muraki's broad shoulders for support against the driving thrusts inside him - pleasuring him, punishing him, until he forgot everything except the man who held him in ecstatic thrall.

For this, he deserted his friends at the Shoukanka. For this, he risked the wrath of Enma-DaiOh and the entire JuOhCho administration. For this, he wore the black wings of a fallen angel. For the mind-blowing pleasure of Muraki's ruthless possession, he would do absolutely anything.

His capitulation was complete.

* * *

Hisoka took Tatsumi and Watari to the park where he last saw Tsuzuki.

"So he dematerialised here while you were chanting the binding spell?" Tatsumi asked.

"Yes. Before he disappeared, he said he refused to deliver the summons...and that the dog was free of the leash. That must be a reference to Saagatanus."

Tatsumi knelt down to pick up a stray black feather. "Perhaps." He scanned the ground for clues. "What else did he say before he left?"

Hisoka frowned. The events happened so fast it was all jumbled in his mind. "Well, initially he claimed he wasn't possessed. He showed me the feathers growing from his back, and he was acting all sad and apologetic about not being human. He started talking gibberish about energy growing inside him. He was in complete denial about his condition - then suddenly he started calling me his 'lamb' and making a pass at me!"

Watari stroked his chin. The long shadows cast by the hulking tree stump several metres away had caught his attention.

Tatsumi noticed it too. "That tree looks out of place. Was it there when you arrived?"

"I don't think so." Hisoka walked towards it. "Actually, I was lying under a big tree when I awoke from the trance. But it wasn't dead - it was covered in leaves."

003 flew from Watari's shoulder to land on a thick overhanging branch. She scratched her talons against the gnarled wood and hooted.

"Looks pretty dead now." Watari kicked at an exposed root with his boot. He looked past the stump to the streetlights in the distance. "Hey, isn't that a hospital?"

"You're right." Hisoka became excited. "That reminds me! We heard Norata's daughter was ill, so Tsuzuki and Gushoshin Elder went looking for her in the local hospitals! She might be a patient here!"

"Good thinking, Kurosaki-kun," Tatsumi said. "Let's take a look."

Watari hung back. "Why don't you and Bon go on ahead? I'll search this area for more clues."

When they were gone, Watari let out a sigh of relief. He preferred to work alone. It gave him the freedom to take certain liberties a regular shinigami wouldn't get away with.

"Is this your doing, Tsuzuki? And the moon isn't quite full yet either." He placed a hand on the massive tree trunk and whistled in admiration. "I wish I was here to witness it. I've always been sceptical about the legends surrounding you and your kind." He looked up at the tangled branches looming over him. "I've got to hand it to you Gods. You don't do anything by halves - which should make finding you a cinch. Unfortunately, there isn't room in this universe for two Guardians of Wood."

He pulled out a pencil and writing pad, and started drawing. When he was finished, he ripped off the sheet and flung it into the air. By the time it floated down, the paper had transformed into the subject he'd drawn - a perfect copy of himself.

"Have fun." Watari winked at his copy. "Take good care of him, 003!" He slowly dematerialised as he sauntered away towards the street.

* * *

Notes:

I'm sorry for not updating for so long. I was become frustrated with my own writing...and then I heard tales about stories being auto-reported which scared me a lot. Thanks once again to those of you who've taken the time to write feedback - I really appreciate it so much. This chapter is deliberately shorter than usual because I feel shorter chapters might be a better way to increase the story's pace. I hope it'll also give me an incentive to make more regular updates - fingers crossed!


	32. Taijitu

Thanks to those who've taken the time to write feedback and continue reading this - I appreciate it very much!

I know I've been slow to update. I'm always slow to update. I'm sorry about the delay. It's frustrating for me as well.

* * *

Back in his human form as an elderly man, Genbu shuffled through the corridors of Tenkuu Palace with granite staff in one hand, flaming torch in the other. He carefully descended down a series of dim staircases until he reached a barred door located deep within the depths of the fortress.

"Is that you, Black Warrior?" Tenkuu rumbled, his booming voice echoing through the corridor. "What brings you down here?"

"Open the door," Genbu replied. "I'm here on our master's behalf."

The bar slid aside, and the door swung open.

The room was large yet bare. Sandstone lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The flickering torchlight illuminated the pair of metal chains and manacles that hung from the walls. A matching pair lay on the cobblestone floor. There were no windows or alternative exits. The air was dank and cold.

"Are you after a place to meditate in peace and quiet? A period of solitary confinement in one of my dungeons might be the perfect retreat for you."

Genbu ignored him. Tsuzuki had told him he wanted a secure place to house a chimera - a chimera who moved like the wind and swept aside modern-day bullets and machinery with consummate ease. An ancient dungeon alone was unlikely to be enough.

Genbu shook his head, his beard swaying in time. "Not good enough. If all your dungeons are this poor, you'll have no hope of containing the new exhibit."

"Who? Who? Am I to have a new prisoner?"

"Yes, a defiant Metal chimera. We four Guardians bore witness to his creation many moons ago. Finally he has returned to fulfill his covenant."

"Hmph! I didn't bear witness to anything!" Tenkuu grumbled. "Why aren't all twelve of us summoned when Tsuzuki breaks down and loses his mind?"

"Because we are the Guardians of the Four Directions. We were the very first ones he summoned at the dawn of time. When he falls into despair and regresses to the God he once was, he summons us to his side."

"Our master doesn't regress often, does he? You Four Guardians spend more time pining for his call than dancing on the earth as the great shikigami you once were!"

"That will change," Genbu assured him. "This time his consciousness is stirring. This chimera is preparing the way - the Moon's celestial power is strong within him."

"The Moon? So you think you've found a new candidate to be the Jade Hare?" Tenkuu was unimpressed. "Why do you still believe that silly old prophecy? The Guardian of the Centre has hardly stirred for centuries. He has been reborn time and time again, and remained asleep throughout. In his current incarnation, he has never shown interest in wielding his powers. The Sun, the Moon, and the Planets could prostrate themselves before him, and he would still sleep!"

Genbu sighed. His long moustache fluttered with his breath. "I'm not so maudlin as to wallow in the past. I know the energy of the Moon has been dispersed and forgotten, even more so than Wood. The mythical Jade Hare will never dance again among us fully formed." He stamped his staff on the ground. "But this chimera is unusually strong in Moon energy - I can sense it. His persistent devotions have been impossible for our master to ignore."

"Hmph!" Tenkuu grumbled. "If anything, it is easier to envisage Tsuzuki as the docile white rabbit than the Elemental Guardian of Wood."

"Perhaps so." Genbu shuffled out of the dungeon. "But we Guardians know Tsuzuki is the one. Long before humans walked the earth and created the language we use today, he christened us with the primordial names that brought us into being. "

A shikigami's primordial name was a special name invested with great power. It was kept secret from humankind, for it was considered too dangerous to be spoken aloud in a moment of anger or frustration.

The first time Tsuzuki had uttered it, he was a teenage boy fleeing a lynch mob of villagers calling for his head. Cornered and exhausted, he had fallen to the ground and released his fury and frustration in one ear-splitting howl - a howl so powerful it had pierced the tranquil peace of Gensoukai.

It was a lament for things lost and never gained. Filled with such despair and anguish, it was impossible for one to hear it and remain unmoved.

To Genbu and the other three Guardians - Suzaku of the South, Souryuu of the East, and Byakko of the West - it brought tears to their eyes. At last, someone was giving voice to the aching sense of loss they endured ever since they were separated from the world they had helped to create. At last, someone was acknowledging their longing to return.

At long last, someone was calling them by the names they thought they would never hear again. So they answered him in the only way they knew.

_You humans are mere insects! I shall incinerate the lot of you for your heresy!_

_I shall drown your wretched families, and wash away your foul existence!_

_My wind shall turn your homes into rubble! The material possessions you hold dear shall be blown to the four corners of the earth!_

_Foolish humans! May the earth swallow your corpses whole! Foolish, foolish humans!_

Their new master had watched the carnage unfold in shock, then wonder...and eventually stark horror. It would take another eight years before he would encounter them again, memory conveniently cloaked, as a new Shinigami on the hunt for shikigami. He had forgotten their first fateful encounter completely.

But they remembered - and they were willing to wait until he remembered too.

The chimera had been the first to revive some of Tsuzuki's dormant memories. No doubt he had his own objectives for doing so, but as long as he continued to aid in Tsuzuki's development, no shikigami would harm him. For now, he was of great use to them.

And as long as Tsuzuki continued to tend to him, there was always a chance the Jade Hare of legend could rise again and prepare the way for them all...

Genbu waved at the dungeon doorway with his staff. "As I said before, you will have to improve your act if you are going to house the chimera securely."

"Do you insult me? No prisoner has ever escaped my dungeons! Anyone caught in my bowels is trapped there forever unless I show them leniency! Ask the Fire Snake yourself if you want proof!"

"But have you ever housed one dominant in Metal and Wind? Cast-iron locks and bolts and chains won't be enough to restrain this one."

Tenkuu slammed the dungeon door shut and slid the bar across. "Hmm. Give me time to modify one of my existing dungeons. Chimera or not, it will be a pleasure to tailor one suitable for a new inmate."

* * *

Tsuzuki opened his eyes. He was in a dark room lit by flickering torches. In front of him was a crowd of various humanoid creatures with animal-like heads - some avian, some reptilian, other mammalian. Some wore flowing robes, while others wore traditional armour. They all had their backs to him.

As he moved towards them, he could hear the muffled sounds of someone sobbing. He stood on tiptoe, but he couldn't see past the crowd.

"I warned you, didn't I? I warned you of the consequences of breaching the terms of your tenure."

Tsuzuki froze. He knew that dry, raspy voice. He hadn't heard it for a long time...but he would remember that distinctive voice anywhere.

"I...know, DaiOh-sama." The wavering words came between heart-wrenching sobs.

"As a Shinigami, you serve me and me alone. Your powers are not to be used for your own selfish gain. What were you doing in the land of the living last night?"

"Nothing! I...I just felt...a bit homesick, I guess. I...I missed being around a real garden...so I just went for a walk in a park."

Some of the creatures gasped. Others shook their heads.

"Why is he allowed to wander through the land of the living so freely?" one muttered to another.

"Well, is it any wonder? He's DaiOh-sama's most successful reaper to date."

Tsuzuki could just make out the rest of the room through the haze of smoke and incense. Situated atop a dais was a man reclining on a chaise lounge. He wore elaborate embroidered silk robes that seemed to glow with their own otherworldly light. It was EnmaDaiOh - absolute ruler of Meifu.

"A real garden? And what is wrong with the gardens we have here in Meifu? Are you saying the eternally flourishing gardens of Meifu are less beautiful than the decaying gardens of the material world?"

The crowd fell silent, waiting for the answer.

"No...they're perfect...too perfect." The sobbing eased into awkward hiccups. "They don't need me...there's nothing I can do for them. It's not like the land of the living..."

Enma sat up, his long black hair cascading down his shoulders and casting a shadow over his eyes. "Are you saying you prefer that ugly place - that world that reeks of the stench of decay and death?"

"No! But I just...I just wanted to help out. I used to love gardening. I thought I could help the plants there grow and flourish..."

The crowd let out a collective gasp.

Tsuzuki wanted to turn and run. He wanted to block his ears. But like a sleepwalker who couldn't control himself, he found himself inching forward through the crowd for a closer look.

"Really?" Enma stood up, and the flames stopped moving. The flickering shadows became still. "Then why were you interfering with that human?"

Below the dais was a man in a black trenchcoat grovelling on his hands and knees. His face was so low to the floor it was impossible to see his face. "I didn't mean to do it! I swear I didn't mean to do it! It was an accident!"

Enma strode down the dais. His black hair flowed in mid-air around him. He stood over the grovelling supplicant. "Taking human life without a summons is expressly forbidden. You know that, don't you?"

Without lifting his gaze, the man nodded. "I know, DaiOh-sama! I didn't forget! He was about to kill himself! I was trying to save him, I swear!"

"Were you?" Enma crouched beside him. "Then I'd hate to see what would've happened if you tried harming him. Are you sure you haven't gone back to your old habits?"

"No, no! I'm not like that anymore!" He started sobbing again. "I swear I'm not, DaiOh-sama!"

Enma rested his hand on the back of the man's head, making him flinch. "You know the consequences of disobedience, don't you?"

"Not the mirror! Please...not the mirror! Anything but that!"

Even as a mere bystander, Tsuzuki couldn't stop trembling in reaction.

"You haven't changed. You have been, and always shall be, a bloodthirsty creature." A cold smile curved Enma's lips as he caressed the dark hair beneath his fingertips. "But I knew that when I employed you. As long as you reap souls on my command alone, you'll live an afterlife of comfort and ease. But if you dare steal a single human soul in defiance of my authority, then be prepared to pay the price. Humanity is mine, and mine alone."

* * *

"Hush, Tsuzuki-san. It's all right."

Someone was holding him close, crooning his name. Lips caressed his lightly, coaxing them open to initiate a deeper kiss.

Tsuzuki opened his eyes. It was dark outside. A bedside lamp was the only illumination in the room. He was nude in Muraki's bed, being held in Muraki's arms. Muraki smelled of soap, as if he'd just come out of the shower.

"You had another bad dream, didn't you?"

"How did you know?"

"You were talking in your sleep." Muraki stroked the hair from his forehead. "I'm pleased your memory is returning."

"Do you think...I'm bloodthirsty?"

Muraki's brow lifted. "Not lately. You've only partaken of my flesh and blood on a few occasions so far."

"So how many times am I supposed to drink your blood? You're severely anaemic as it is, Gyokuto-sama ."

Muraki rolled away onto his back. "Don't call me that in jest."

"Why not?" Tsuzuki followed him by rolling on his stomach. "Genbu calls you a chimera: half-human, half..." His voice faded off uncertainly.

"Half what?"

Tsuzuki gazed at the false metallic eye. He could hear the taunts of the village children echoing in his mind.

_You're a monster! Freak! Monster!_

"It doesn't matter." Tsuzuki rested his head on Muraki's chest. He could still hear a heartbeat. "Then again, I guess that makes me a chimera too."

"Indeed you are. I was amazed to find non-human DNA in the skin samples collected by my grandfather - the forbidden DNA of a demon."

Once those words would have struck horror in Tsuzuki's heart - his deepest, darkest secret voiced aloud. But now - nothing. No soul-crushing guilt or catatonic-inducing despair. Muraki had taught him demons were not the monsters he had once believed them to be.

"You knew about my origins, yet you didn't know you'd made a contract with me until the lab fire in Kyoto. Tell me what happened. How did you find out?"

"You revealed yourself to me." Muraki clasped his hand and drew it down to his abdominal scars. "You unveiled your true nature for the very first time." His other hand idly stroked Tsuzuki's hair. "Bloodthirsty doesn't begin to describe it."

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. All he could remember was dark suffocating smoke...and Touda hovering over him, his thick black flames crackling around them both. "I acted...in self-defence."

"You attacked me while my back was turned."

"You drove me to it. Being your grandfather's guinea pig was bad enough - I didn't want to repeat the experience again." Tsuzuki traced the ridges and indentations of the thickened scar tissue. "Drive a dog into a corner, and eventually it will lose control and snap, right?"

"Mmm. I suppose so." Muraki's fingers stroked the sensitive nape of Tsuzuki's neck.

"Well, I'm no different...except I have little memory of what I've done once I regain consciousness."

"You were probably in some kind of dissociative state," Muraki murmured. "But you should have seen yourself: your face and hands splattered with my blood, your violet eyes burning with rage - you truly were a magnificent sight to behold."

Tsuzuki lifted his head. "You're not afraid, are you? This other side of me - it doesn't scare you at all."

"Why should I be afraid?" Muraki ruffled his hair. "This is all part of your true nature." His lips curved in a lopsided smile.

Tsuzuki felt a strange tightness in his chest. Why couldn't Muraki always be like this? "Aren't you afraid I'll turn on you again?" He ran his nails lightly along Muraki's scars.

"My Metal energy is growing, and with it my spiritual power. There is nothing for either of us to fear as long as Metal dominates Wood." His heavy-lidded gaze held an implicit challenge.

Tsuzuki sat up and stretched his wings high above his head, flaunting them for Muraki's benefit. "Wood may not be as easy to dominate as you think." He lowered himself to the bed so that his head was alongside Muraki's hip, and his legs tucked beside Muraki's head on the pillow.

"Well, well...I see your thirst for blood has been replaced by a different kind of thirst, hmm?"

Tsuzuki took hold of Muraki's lax cock. It twitched and stiffened in his grip. "What if Wood were to leech valuable minerals away from Metal?" He allowed his lips to hover tantalisingly over the crown. "What will you do then?"

Muraki's grin was wicked. "Get it back, naturally." He shifted across until his head was resting across Tsuzuki's splayed thighs, and Tsuzuki's cock was rapidly firming in his stroking hands. "Get back every single drop."

Tsuzuki shivered in anticipation. The last time they had tried this, the pleasure had been so unbearable he had ended it prematurely. But now he was ready to give it another try. The other Shinigami were after them, and the full moon was still too far away. If he was ever going to be the Guardian of Wood, he would have to do whatever it takes to rid himself of EnmaDaiOh's seal.

"You do that, Muraki." His voice was husky and thick - a voice he didn't recognise as his own. "You do that."

Muraki chuckled - and swallowed Tsuzuki down in one ravenous gulp.

Tsuzuki closed his eyes. He was drowning in pleasure, exquisite pleasure...pleasure that rendered him as helpless as a kitten, even as it made him feel as powerful as a god. Every caress of Muraki's lips, every lash of his tongue, every touch of his skilled hands - all indicative of an insatiable hunger that refused to be denied.

Just like his hunger for regeneration and eternal life.

Tsuzuki lowered his lips to Muraki's cock. He ignored the voice inside his head warning that Muraki was only doing this to gain more power. He allowed the bulk of the erection to slide slowly past his lips, along his tongue. Normally he preferred sweets, but he made a special exception for Muraki. Something about the salty-bitter taste of the precome made his mouth water. He swallowed once, then twice...

...and it was like he was sucking himself off. His own cock was being suckled, slowly and steadily. Before he knew it, Tsuzuki found himself falling into the same hypnotic rhythm with his mouth, lips and tongue.

His head was spinning. He was lost. Utterly lost.

With a soft groan, he twisted his head, adjusting the angle so he could accommodate more of Muraki's cock. There, that was better. Much better. He was suckling like a man dying of thirst...and sinking into a surfeit of self-indulgent ecstasy.

Muraki wasn't the only one who took pleasure in imbibing essence.

_We can't run, you and I. We are the same kind._

Tsuzuki's black wings fluttered wildly like a nervous bird. His cock was being exposed to cool air one second, and engulfed by the slick heat of Muraki's ravenous mouth the next. His hips bucked against the delight - only Muraki's grip over one hip kept him in place. His pleasure-wracked body was teetering on the precipice...

"I can't take this! Muraki...please..."

"Yes, you can." Muraki's voice was slurred with passion. "You can't run...or fly...now that I've caught you." He dug sharp nails into Tsuzuki's buttock. His other hand steadily stroked Tsuzuki's aching cock.

"I...I'm not going anywhere." Tsuzuki slid his lips along the shaft of Muraki's cock as proof. "But this...feels like torture..."

Muraki exhaled sharply. "Now you know how I feel. Now you know how everyone feels." He lapped at the oozing precome with his tongue. "Even sealed, you draw living and non-living beings to you like a magnet."

"No..." Tsuzuki didn't want to hear this now. "That's...untrue."

"Most have no idea why they find you attractive - they attribute it to personality or charisma or looks. But it's because of your energy...your irresistible Wood energy...the key to regeneration and-"

Tsuzuki silenced him the only way he could - he swallowed Muraki down whole. He suckled and gulped as if his very survival depended on it - doing to Muraki what Muraki had done earlier for him. He didn't want to hear about his powers. He didn't want to hear about his nature, true or otherwise. If Muraki didn't want him for himself, then at least he could make Muraki forget his supernatural attributes for the moment.

Muraki got the message. With an inarticulate growl, he devoured Tsuzuki once more.

Pleasure begetting pleasure in a spiral of ecstasy. A neverending cycle of one consuming the other, over and over, striving for a common goal. Tsuzuki had no idea where he ended and Muraki began. His entire world was spinning around him...spinning like the mysterious red spiral he had once seen in Muraki's eye.

Tsuzuki couldn't pull away to break the irresistible circuit of pleasure. His black wings shook and flapped wildly to no avail. He wanted to soar free, but only found himself sinking deeper and deeper...

Deeper into the the warm, wet confines of Muraki's mouth...and deeper as Muraki's cock slid inexorably down his own voracious throat.

This time, there would be no escape.

In a flurry of black feathers, he tumbled headlong into the abyss.

* * *

In the hospital's intensive care unit, the white swallow shikigami stood vigil at the foot of Keiko's bed. Norata-san and his wife did not notice it - their attention was devoted only on their ill daughter. Nurses and doctors wandered in and out, too preoccupied with the realities of the physical world to sense the presence of the little guardian spirit.

At one point, Keiko's eyes flickered open. Her mother called her name and squeezed her hand. Her father placed his hands together in prayer. But the girl's glazed eyes stared up at the ceiling.

The swallow flew to the head of the bed and cocked its head to one side. It let out a trill of greeting.

Keiko blinked. Her gaze shifted towards it.

Pleased at being noticed, the swallow bobbed its crested head and trilled again - a louder song of encouragement.

Keiko blinked again, then slowly closed her eyes.

The hopes of her parents sank. The swallow trilled a song to lift their spirits too, but their hearts were too weighed down by grief to hear it. They left shortly after.

The swallow stayed behind, watching and waiting as instructed. Occasionally it would eye the monitors with their zigzagging lines and changing digits out of curiosity.

Two people materialised in the room. Unlike the others, they had not entered through the doorway. Unlike the others, they both noticed the swallow at once.

"That's one of Tsuzuki's shikigami! What is it doing here?"

The swallow trilled and bobbed its head in greeting.

"Tsuzuki-san may have left it here as a sentinel." Tatsumi stroked his chin. "He may have located the rest of the family by now."

Hisoka moved gingerly to the bed. Being in hospital brought back bad memories of his own numerous admissions as a patient. He peered at the mass of tubing and wiring, the panels of equipment and blinking monitors. It was easier to focus on the high-tech gadgetry than the comatose young woman who depended on them for survival. "She's on full life support. It doesn't look as if she has much time left."

"True." Tatsumi's thoughtful gaze was on the shikigami. He held out his hand, inviting it to come to him. But it simply bobbed its head and remained perched by the bed.

Hisoka studied her face for the first time. She seemed a little older than he was when he died. It seemed such a shame to summon her for judgement so soon. Was she loved by her parents? Was death for her a premature end to a promising young life or a welcome release from a miserable existence?

_I cursed him, and yet I saved him...I saved him from a fate worse than death._

Hisoka froze. The memory of Muraki's words sent chills down his spine...and filled him with self-disgust. Was he trying to justify the purpose of this morbid assignment with the same self-serving reasons Muraki used to justify weaving that wretched curse? Was he no better than the man who had callously brought an end to his own life?

"Are you all right, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Yes." Hisoka nodded furiously. "I...I just felt dizzy for a moment. I'm fine now."

"I see." Tatsumi wasn't convinced, but decided to change the topic. "Let's go outside for the time being. By leaving this shikigami as his eyes and ears, Tsuzuki-san is unlikely to return unless her condition worsens."

"Wait a minute. Can't we use the shikigami to lead us to Tsuzuki?" Hisoka lowered his head so he was eye-to-eye with the swallow. "You know where he is, don't you?"

The swallow stepped away from him, bobbing its head repeatedly in apology.

"It won't tell us because it's not a messenger shikigami," Tatsumi explained. "Its role is to watch over her, and it won't defy its master. Let's go, Kurosaki-kun."

Questions nagged at Hisoka's mind. When they materialised outside the hospital in the shadows of the foyer, he voiced his concerns aloud. "It doesn't make sense, Tatsumi-san. Why would Saagatanus do something like this?"

Tatsumi hesitated for a moment. "Do what?"

"Use one of Tsuzuki's shikigami to watch over her. Why didn't he just take her soul and be done with it?"

"Tsuzuki-san was probably still himself when he placed it by her bed." Tatsumi started walking, leaving Hisoka no choice but to follow.

Hisoka mulled it over. Bird shikigami were created by folding paper charms. They had the advantage of being discreet and unobtrusive, but their power was limited. The little swallow would be easily defeated by a demon like Saaga.

So who was it really watching out for? Muraki perhaps?

Tatsumi must have been thinking along the same lines, because he answered the unspoken question for him. "I suspect Tsuzuki-san posted it there to delay us from delivering the summons."

"So it was keeping a lookout for us?" At Tatsumi's nod, Hisoka exclaimed, "But why? It's just a fuda shikigami! If we had wanted to, we could've easily found a way to break through it!"

"It wouldn't have stopped us," Tatsumi agreed, "but it would've hindered us long enough for Tsuzuki-san to arrive on the scene."

"You...you mean Saaga, don't you? Tsuzuki would never disobey an order from EnmaDaioh-sama on purpose."

Tatsumi pushed his glasses up his nose. It was hard to make out his features in the evening shadows.

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Hisoka insisted. "I can't believe he'd betray us like that."

Tatsumi slowed to a stop. "No...I suppose you wouldn't. Tsuzuki-san has changed for the better these past few years." He seemed to be considering his next words with great care. "You...you've been very good for him, Kurosaki-kun. But sometimes I wonder whether he's been good for you."

"Good for me?" Hisoka repeated. He flushed and turned away, torn between confusion and embarrassment. "Well, he can be a lazy idiot...but he's helped me a lot as well. He's lifted my spirits when I've been low. He's given me encouragement when I doubted myself. Although I've never had another partner to compare him with, I'm sure he's been a good influence on me too."

"I'm glad to hear it, Kurosaki-kun." Tatsumi began walking again. "I'm glad to hear it."

But he wasn't. Hisoka could detect a hint of wistful sadness that made no sense at all. Was Tatsumi disappointed with him? Envious of him? But why?

"We should check up on Watari-san. Maybe he's found some useful clues in the park."

Tatsumi's abrupt tone seemed to quell further discussion...and Hisoka didn't have the courage to question him further. He quickened his pace to catch up.

* * *

Exhausted and satisfied for the moment, Muraki and Tsuzuki fell asleep entwined in a tangle of bodies and limbs.

Lying on the bedroom floor, Ohryuu rested her head between her paws. It wasn't her place to interfere, but she was worried. The two of them were feeding from each other repeatedly, with little regard for the consequences. They took an inordinate pleasure in the process, and were indulging themselves to an excessive degree.

Surely the Light had taken in enough energy to assume his true form by now. But he seemed to be waging an internal battle to suppress his full transformation. Maybe he preferred to remain human so he could continue feeding from the one he called Muraki.

To Ohryuu, Muraki was the Voice. He was the one who had called out to her in the spiritual wilderness of human civilization. It was he who told her and others who would listen about the Light who was to come.

Ohryuu sighed and lashed her tail. Being trapped in feline form was frustrating enough, but it was better to be sealed as a feline than a human. Humans were too attached to their frail bodies, and the fleeting pleasure to be derived from them.

Feeling restless, she padded to the living room. Muraki's spiritual barrier was now in place around the penthouse apartment, but she still felt obliged to do her part as security guard. She watched the evening view of Nagasaki by night, her eyes drawn to the rising gibbous moon. She longingly eyed the mesh metal bracelet Muraki had discarded on the coffee table.

One day, she would regain her Wind energy. Already her claws and teeth were Metal, a promising sign of things to come. But she was still a demon who needed to consume the spiritual energy of others to generate Fire - and sooner or later, she would have to feed again.

Although Muraki's vandalism the other night had left the intercom a wreck, the CCTV screen was now switched permanently on. A flicker of movement on the screen caught Ohryuu's attention. She reared up on her hind legs for a closer look.

A man with wavy long hair peered into the camera. He was gesticulating and speaking animatedly, but with the intercom out of order it was impossible to hear him.

Ohryuu scrambled to the bedroom to find Tsuzuki already hauling himself out of bed. His nude back was bare, free of the black wings.

"Is someone here? I sensed a strong spiritual presence a moment ago." He turned to Muraki, who was still sleeping soundly. He combed the stray strands of silver hair from his forehead. "Let him rest. I'll handle this."

"Your wings! Where are they?"

Tsuzuki felt his back. "I...I'm not sure. The excess energy in my body must've been transferred when we..." He got out of his bed, his face flushed. "Never mind." He cast a quick spell, and was dressed in his usual black trenchcoat outfit by the time he reached the lift doors.

"Do you know him?"

"Yeah, it's Watari. He's a Shinigami like me." Tsuzuki ran a hand through his hair. "I should've known he'd be the first to find us."

On the screen, Watari was holding up a book and pointing at it. Tsuzuki tried to read his lips without success.

"This place is shielded by a barrier spell," the panther said. "It won't be easy for him to enter."

"I wouldn't be so sure. What Watari lacks in supernatural power he makes up for with ingenuity." Tsuzuki pulled out some bloodstained illusion fuda. "It might be easier to let him in and find out what he wants. I can make doubles of myself and Muraki to-"

"Tsk tsk, Tsuzuki-san," a laconic voice drawled. "Don't tell me you're going to be so rude as to hide from our guest?"

Leaning by the lift doors, looking dishevelled, disreputable...and too devastatingly sexy for his own good was Muraki in his white yukata.

"You know what this means, don't you? He knows about us! He knows we're here!"

"Who?" Without his glasses, Muraki had to peer closely at the screen. "Oh, the engineer. Maybe he's come to give us his blessing."

"Muraki! This is no laughing matter! He's here to arrest me for failing to deliver the summons!"

Muraki put an arm around Tsuzuki's shoulders. "Then let him try. We have nothing to be ashamed of, do we?"

Considering what they had been doing earlier, Tsuzuki wasn't so sure. "Shouldn't you go and get dressed?"

"I am dressed. This is what I normally wear at home."

"His wings are gone," Ohryuu growled at Muraki. "Where are they?"

"Never fear." Muraki's self-satisfied smile said it all. "They're in safe-keeping, so to speak."

"Forget that!" Tsuzuki couldn't see Watari on the CCTV screen anymore - a sign he was already starting to disable the security system. "You should make yourself invisible," he told the panther. "And as for you," he jabbed Muraki in the chest, "if you don't wear your suit and trenchcoat, I'm going to activate an illusion fuda of you and use that instead!"

Muraki took hold of Tsuzuki's hand and guided it to his bare chest. "There is no need to panic. All we have to do is behave the way we normally do with each other."

Tsuzuki pulled his hand free. "Are you crazy? If he sees how we normally behave together, he'll probably film an amateur video and upload it to the JuOhCho computer network for laughs!"

"Really? He sounds like a man after my own heart."

"Muraki! You've got to be serious! Watari may act goofy on the outside, but he knows a lot more than he lets on!"

"I know. He's intimately acquainted with the great JuOhCho supercomputer, isn't he?" Muraki's sidelong look was sly and knowing. "Perhaps you should be asking him what use Enma has for hoarding human knowledge along with human souls."

A horrible suspicion dawned on Tsuzuki.

_Kinu is said to be the eyes and ears for Akasha, the supercomputer of JuOhCho...but no one has ever seen him, or at least lasted long enough to tell the tale_.

If Gyokuto chose to conceal himself in human guise, then what was stopping Kinu, the Gold Raven, from doing the same?

"If he's Kinu, this is worse than I thought! He's the one who expunged all mention of non-Fire demons from the database!" Tsuzuki turned to the panther. "As far as he's concerned, you're not supposed to exist!"

"How dare he!" Ohryuu lashed her tail. "The sacrilege!"

Muraki sighed. "Tsuzuki-san, please allow me to take care of this."

"No way! You'll either summon another demon or go on a killing spree!" Tsuzuki began pacing back and forth. "Arresting me for insubordination is one thing, but if he knows about you and Ohryuu..." He whirled around to face the panther. "Hide. Make yourself invisible."

Ohryuu exchanged glances with Muraki, who gave a small nod. Slowly she dematerialised into nothingness.

"Now it's your turn, Muraki." Tsuzuki looked around, only to find himself speaking to an empty room. "Muraki?"

Had he already vanished? It wasn't like Muraki to be so compliant.

Relieved, Tsuzuki took out one of his bloodstained fuda and placed it between his index and middle fingers. He sat down on the lounge and started chanting the spell - only for the fuda to be snatched out of his fingers.

Standing over him was Muraki, dressed in his white trenchcoat and suit, wearing his metal-framed glasses. He sniffed the paper charm, then wrinkled his nose. "One of mine, I see." He slid it in his pocket. "Why create a replica of me? Surely no fuda double can ever match the real thing."

Tsuzuki glared. "When it comes to being an insufferable jerk who refuses to listen to a word I say, I suppose not."

Muraki sat beside him and crossed his legs. "Someone has to let down the barrier around the apartment so he can come in, right?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

Tsuzuki couldn't help fuming at how calm and collected Muraki was. Perhaps it was because Muraki, unlike him, had nothing to hide. What was he going to do? What was he going to say? What excuses could he give to explain his shameless conduct?

"If you're going to stay, you mustn't show off your Metal powers. You've got to act as normal as possible, got it?"

"Understood." Muraki took a drag from his cigarette. "I'll do my best to act normal." His false eye began to glow.

Tsuzuki buried his face in his hands. "You're looking forward to this, aren't you?"

"Not at all." Muraki caressed the hair at the nape of his neck. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Don't do that. It's too distracting." But Tsuzuki didn't shake him off.

"You were incredibly distracting yourself earlier." Muraki's fingers were tracing slow circles against his nape. "You truly are voracious...I could barely keep up. For a moment, I thought I was losing myself..."

Tsuzuki lifted his head. "I felt the same way too. That's why I pulled away the first time. It scared me..."

Muraki's gaze was oddly tender. "Why? The moon must take its fill in order to grow full."

Tsuzuki went still. "Who...who are you referring to?"

Muraki kissed him, a gentle meeting of lips. "All in good time, Tsuzuki-san. All in good time."

The flashing indicator lights of the lift caught Tsuzuki's attention. They didn't have much time left. Quickly he withdrew from Muraki's embrace. "So what's supposed to happen when Kinu meets Gyokuto?"

"Well..." Muraki reclined back in his seat and took another drag from the cigarette. "I suppose the sky will go dark and rivers will dry up. Then crops will fail and pestilence plague the living, until finally civilization as we know it crumbles - the typical chaos and destruction foretold by seers each time the sun and moon meet in an eclipse."

Muraki's breezy tone did nothing to allay Tsuzuki's unease. "Chaos and destruction, huh? That's right up your alley."

"Really, Tsuzuki-san?" Through the haze of cigarette smoke, Muraki's sidelong glance held mocking amusement. "I thought it was more up yours."

Tsuzuki decided to get up and wait in front of the lift doors. He was on edge already - the last thing he needed was to be goaded by Muraki's taunts. But doubts were creeping into his mind. Surely Muraki had to be Gyokuto. Why else would he revere the moon? Why else was he so driven to seek eternal life to the exclusion of all else?

But perhaps it was he who had inadvertently anointed Muraki to be Gyokuto. With a stab of a knife, Muraki's whole life had been turned upside down.

_I will give you a name! You will be Gyokuto-sama!_

The hum of the lift doors sliding open brought Tsuzuki back to reality.

Watari stood there, dressed in his white lab coat, a big cheery grin on his face as usual. "Hey, Tsuzuki! You know what?" He began walking towards him. "I think I've figured out the meaning of the-" He suddenly slammed his face against an invisible barrier positioned at the lift entrance, and promptly fell back inside the lift. The lift doors slid shut, and the lift started going down.

"What the...Muraki!"

"Didn't I tell you I'd take care of everything?" Still sitting on the lounge, Muraki placed his cigarette on the ashtray. "You seemed so agitated about seeing him I thought it best he come back at a more appropriate time."

"No! You were right about what you said earlier. There's no point in hiding. I might as well face him here and now without resorting to fuda doubles or any other supernatural tricks. Bring him back up."

"That's more like it," Muraki murmured approvingly. He walked over to the lift doors and gave a careless wave of his hand. The lift rose once more and the doors opened again.

Watari winced as he rubbed the back of his head. "Silly me. I should've known there would be some kind of barrier spell in place." Cautiously he extended a hand towards the entrance.

"Forgive me," Muraki replied dryly. "I had no idea I was expecting an unwanted intruder."

Finding the barrier gone, Watari bounded in. "Hey! Long time no see, Doctor Muraki!" He eyed Muraki up and down with unabashed curiosity. "Well, well! You look in remarkable shape for a man with multiple mineral deficiency!"

Muraki was also assessing Watari, albeit in a much more measured way. "I hope you don't mind me asking how you found this place."

"Oh, it took me a while. I hacked into the various government and banking databases in the local area, but I couldn't find any recent records of you. I had to look back several years before I stumbled across an old deed to this apartment in your name." Watari strode to the windows and pressed his face against the glass. "Wow! What a cool place you have here!"

"Did Chief Konoe send you?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Well, he didn't have much choice but to send me and Tatsumi down here, did he?" Watari bounced on the lounge, making himself at home. "The boy turned up in his office with this outlandish story about you sprouting wings. He's convinced you've been possessed by Saagatanus again!"

Tsuzuki remained standing. "Don't you believe him?" Out of the corner of his eye, Tsuzuki noticed Muraki drift to the far wall by the curtains. He was watching Watari like a hawk.

"Why should I? I know the truth about Saaga, remember? The high-security channels of the JuOhCho information network were abuzz with rumours of his annihilation." Watari leaned forward. "You never fully explained how you did it, you know." He glanced Muraki's way. "Perhaps you got a helping hand, huh?"

Apart from a raised brow, Muraki chose not to respond.

"Did you tell the others?" Tsuzuki asked.

"Nah, why should I? It's classified information, anyway - well above the clearance level of the average Shinigami."

"I see." Tsuzuki darted a look Muraki's way. "Obviously you don't fall in that category."

Strangely enough, Muraki's reticence was making him more nervous than Watari's presence. It wasn't like Muraki to be silent - when he was, it was usually a sign of trouble brewing.

"I would certainly hope not!" Watari chuckled. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about either of them. The boy and Tatsumi are visiting the girl in hospital."

"That's good." Tsuzuki seated himself on the edge of the adjacent armchair. "So why exactly are you here?"

"Hey, no need to be so suspicious! I just wanted to see what you've both been up to." Watari craned his neck towards the bedroom doorway. "I was hoping to surprise the two of you, but I guess-"

"Out with it, Watari! What are you doing here?"

"All right, all right! Remember you asked me to decipher that anagram?"

"What anagram?"

"3, 22, LUX - that anagram you saw in your dream!" Watari placed a leather-bound Bible embossed with a gold cross on the coffee table. "Well, I think the answer's in here! I'm sure of it!"

Before Tsuzuki could pick it up, a sudden gust of air swept the Bible off the table. It flew across the room and into Muraki's hands with a firm thud. He flicked through it, his good eye narrowed. "Nothing more than an antiquated Western religious text from a bygone era." He shut the book with a decisive snap. "This is of no use to you, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki was too dumbfounded to reply. Muraki's ease in manipulating the Bible took him by complete surprise. The only metal in the book was the gold embossed cross - surely not enough elemental Metal present for Muraki to manipulate.

"Oh well," Watari shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "You can keep that copy if you like." He pulled out a pencil and a notepad. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Another gust of air blew the pencil and notepad out of Watari's hands. Still standing by the far wall, Muraki caught them easily as well.

No, this wasn't simply Metal at work. This was Wind manipulation – yet another sign of Muraki's growing power.

"Tsuzuki-san, I assure you that there is nothing to be gained in looking through this book. It has no relevance to you and your true nature."

"But...but that anagram is something I saw in my dream - the same dream that led me to seek you out here in Nagasaki. At the time, I thought it was another clue to help me understand what was going on-"

"Forget it. It's of no consequence." Muraki's dismissive tone left no room for compromise.

Tsuzuki was puzzled and angered by it. After six days of taunting him for turning his back on his past and playing the ignorant fool, why was Muraki now refusing to let him see a simple book? The anagram that marked his body in that dream may have slipped his mind, but it was still an important clue - no matter what Muraki said.

Besides, wasn't Muraki the one who placed the dream in his mind to begin with? Why was he suddenly unwilling to reveal its true significance?

"How can you be so sure it's of no consequence? After all, it appeared in Tsuzuki's dream, not yours." Watari wasn't bothered at all by Muraki's brusque manner - if anything, he seemed amused, even smug. "Why don't you let Tsuzuki skim the Bible and judge for himself? Or are you afraid of what he might find out?"

* * *

Note:

1. The name of the JuOhCho supercomputer throughout this story has been changed from Mother to Akasha to maintain consistency with the Volume 12 tankoubon. The word Akasha is Sanskrit for aether.


	33. Song of the gold raven

Muraki's gaze narrowed. The pencil snapped in his fingers. In his other hand he held the Bible in a white-knuckled grip.

Tsuzuki's anxious gaze darted from Muraki to Watari. What did Muraki have to hide? And why was Watari exuding such an air of smug superiority about it? "If you know what it means, Watari, just tell me."

"And spoil the surprise?" Watari's brown eyes sparkled with mirth. "No way! It's much more fun if you look it up for yourself." He sat on the sofa, waiting for the fireworks to start.

Fun for whom? Watari was obviously toying with them for his own amusement. Whose side was he really on?

Sensing Tsuzuki's doubt, Muraki approached him. "The engineer possesses a unique gift, doesn't he? I doubt there is anyone else within Meifu who has the ability to make inanimate drawings come to life. Have you ever wondered who granted him such a gift - and what kind of spiritual energy is behind it?" He held out the broken pieces of the pencil in the palm of his hand.

The two fragments were alive, squirming and writhing like twin worms. As Tsuzuki watched, the broken ends found each other, fused together, and straightened to form an intact pencil once more.

"Wood energy - the energy of life. I should've known." He turned to Watari. "Did EnmaDaiOh give this to you?"

"Enma gives, and Enma can just as easily take away." Watari's easy humour was gone, replaced by grave seriousness. "We Shinigami owe everything we are to EnmaDaiOh. Even you."

"Indeed." Muraki sneered. He eyed Watari with open contempt. "So you take pride in your position as Enma's prized pet? Are you content to harvest human souls at his bidding and betray your own kind?"

"So what if I am?" Watari retorted. "You of all people are in no position to judge me. How many times have you sought to increase your power by draining the spiritual energy of your human victims?" He combed an errant lock of blond hair behind his ear. "All I've done is throw my lot in with a master of the craft."

"Then you know," Tsuzuki murmured. "You know where this Wood energy comes from. You know what use Enma has for human souls." The vestige of hope he harboured was blown away. "Who else in the Shoukanka knows?"

Watari ran an idle hand through his wavy long hair. "None of them have a clue except Chief Konoe. The old man's been around long enough to have some idea." His movements dislodged something at the unbuttoned collar of his shirt - a black leather cord around the base of his throat. Hanging from it was a single feather of pure gold.

"Well, well." Muraki exhaled sharply. "So you show your true colours at last."

Tsuzuki stared. "What is that?"

"My protective amulet." Watari held it out for inspection. "Do you like it?"

"It's also an identification tag," Muraki explained. "The sight of it will send any demon into terrified retreat." He placed a restraining hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder. "After all, who would dare harm Enma's appointed gold raven?"

So this was Kinu - the mythical bird who embodied the power of the sun, the eyes and ears of JuOhCho's supercomputer.

"I've chosen my destiny of my own free will." Watari's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Unlike you."

Muraki's nails dug into Tsuzuki's shoulder. "At least my mind remains my own, which is more than could be said of yours."

Tsuzuki's bewildered glance darted from one man to the other. "What do you mean?" he asked Muraki. "Are you saying Watari...isn't really Watari?" He looked at Watari closely. He didn't appear any different - yet there was a chilly aloofness in his gaze, and the smile that curved his lips now seemed more mocking than cheerful.

Muraki led Tsuzuki back to the armchair. "You can ask him yourself - but you can see the difference already. Like you, the engineer is a man of many faces."

Tsuzuki sat down. This news was not entirely surprising. He had suspected it for a while. "Are you Kinu?" he asked Watari.

Watari shrugged. "It's not really my place to say. It would be presumptuous of me to claim such a grand title for myself."

"Spare us the false modesty." Seated on the arm of Tsuzuki's chair, Muraki lounged over the backrest like a leopard guarding its prize. "We know what you are. Your amulet proves it. You've been appointed by Enma to be his pet songbird - his candidate for the position of Gold Raven. But you have no Sun energy of your own. Without your charmed feather, no demon would give you a second glance."

"Then it's lucky for me that demons aren't to my taste," Watari quipped.

"Gushoshin Elder told me a little about Kinu," Tsuzuki said. "He said no one had ever seen his face, and he was supposed to be all-knowing and wise, and as brilliant as the sun." Tsuzuki leaned forward, searching for signs of those qualities in Watari's features.

Watari sat up, hand placed under his chin in a classic thinker's pose. "Do I pass muster?"

Muraki scowled at being upstaged. He placed a hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder, and stroked his thumb along the nape of Tsuzuki's neck.

"Err..." Tsuzuki stiffened against the caress. "Well...if that's true..." He shook off Muraki's hand and let out a nervous laugh. "If that's true, then there's no way you're Kinu!"

"No way?" Watari was visibly deflated by the news.

"I mean, look at yourself! You're more like a mad scientist than a wise man!" He turned to Muraki. "One time he even tried to formulate a sex-change potion and-"

Muraki raised a brow. "A what?"

"A sex-change potion, and it was a complete flop! When he and I drank it, we were transformed into kids! Now if Watari really was Kinu, wouldn't he have figured out how to make a proper sex-change potion?"

"I suppose." Muraki eyed Tsuzuki curiously. "But why on earth did you drink it in the first place?"

"Because he asked me to. He needed a subject to test it."

"Did you want to undergo a sex change?"

"Oh no! Definitely not! Not permanently, anyway." Tsuzuki flushed. "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to..."

"To what?"

"Well...to have...you know." Tsuzuki cupped the empty space in front of his chest with both hands to demonstrate.

"No, never." Muraki stared down at Tsuzuki's groping hands, then back up to Tsuzuki's sheepish face. "Your tastes are evidently far more kinky than mine."

"No way! You're the kinky one! What kind of person hires prostitutes as after-dinner entertainment, anyway?"

Muraki indicated a wide-eyed Watari with an incline of his head. "Tsuzuki-san, please. Not in front of our guest."

"Prostitutes? What were you both doing with prostitutes?" Watari demanded. "Were you having an orgy? What did you do? Did you take any pic-"

"Nothing happened!" Tsuzuki shouted. "We did nothing with them! I kicked them out before anything could happen!"

"It appears Tsuzuki-san prefers to grope his own breasts than fondle someone else's," Muraki remarked.

"Enough! Drop the subject!" Flustered, Tsuzuki turned to Watari. "Why are you going along with EnmaDaiOh's scheme against humanity? Why are you turning your back on the human race?"

"I'm not turning my back on anything. If anything, I'm recycling a valuable resource." Watari tossed his head, blond hair cascading over his shoulder. "A human, once dead, has no further use for their soul. Either it just floats away into the ether or it ends up bound to the material world as a ghost driven by a grudge of some kind. By gathering them together, EnmaDaiOh is giving them something all humans have sought - a meaning to life. Or in this case, the afterlife."

Tsuzuki recognized the sentiment all too well. It was why he first joined the Shoukanka as a Shinigami. He had always longed to find a purpose to his own wretched existence. "So is that why you've aligned yourself with EnmaDaiOh? Do you find meaning in watching him drain human souls to generate Wood energy?"

Watari shook his head, chuckling. "I've got no use for any energy, Wood or otherwise. Spiritual energy doesn't interest me." He flashed a disdainful look Muraki's way. "I'm no vampiric parasite."

Muraki came to his feet in one lithe movement. "How virtuous you sound," he sneered. "But would you still serve Enma with such loyalty without unlimited access to the vast JuOhCho supercomputer network? Are you so sure you can survive being offline, free from its addictive hold on your consciousness?"

Watari lifted his chin. "As administrator, I organise the database and keep the network running smoothly."

"Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week? Why must you do all the work yourself? Surely you could come up with suitable software to perform such menial tasks in your place?" Muraki took a step toward him. "Unless you can't go offline because you can't live without the instant gratification of JuOhCho's encrypted network."

Watari didn't answer. He put a hand to his head as if he had a splitting headache.

"Instant gratification?" Tsuzuki asked, mystified. "What do you mean?"

"JuOhCho's network is overseen by a sole administrator who determines the privileges of the other users - a position of considerable responsibility." He turned back to Watari, false eye glowing. "So what is it like to have the total wealth of human knowledge at your fingertips? Do you get a thrill out of being sole gatekeeper? Do you relish the nuggets of wisdom gleaned from the dying as they drew their last breath? Do you revel in knowing the secrets of the dead, secrets they hoped to carry with them to the grave?"

"Arrgh!" Watari clutched his head. "It hurts..." He doubled over, blond hair falling over his face. "I can't take it any longer...make it stop!"

"Why should I? Isn't it time Tsuzuki-san knew the truth about you?" Standing over Watari, Muraki was clearly enjoying his discomfort. "So how does it feel to be responsible for such a vast resource? Does having that wealth of information all to yourself fill the gnawing sense of inadequacy you've carried with you all your life?"

"Please..." Watari was trembling uncontrollably. "Make it stop!"

Tsuzuki grabbed Muraki by the arm. "Enough, Muraki. You've said enough."

"Hardly. I was just getting started." Muraki's grey eyes remained cold and ruthless. "He is not the friendly colleague you once knew. That was merely a guise he wore for the purpose of passing himself off as a normal Shinigami. Isn't it time you saw him for what he really is?"

Watari crouched on the floor in a foetal position, knees bent to his chest, hands pulling at his hair. "The pain...is unbearable," he whimpered. "Make it stop!"

"I've seen enough. I don't want him to suffer like this." Tsuzuki shook Muraki by the arm. "I don't know what you're doing to him, but whatever it is-"

"Don't you?" Muraki's sinister smile sent shivers down Tsuzuki's spine. "Have you ever wondered how the engineer is constantly online to the supercomputer network, no matter how far he is from EnmaCho?"

Tsuzuki frowned. "I guess he must use a device of some kind...like a mobile phone...or a laptop with wireless modem..."

"Exactly. He uses a modem, but he has no need for a cumbersome external device. No, a professional of his calibre communicates directly with the network via an intracranial neural interface."

"Intracranial..." The truth dawned on Tsuzuki with horrible clarity. The modem - composed of computer chips and metal circuits - was lodged inside Watari's head. And Muraki was an expert in manipulating Metal...

He seized the lapels of Muraki's coat. "All right! You've made your point! Stop using your Metal power to torture him!"

"Very well." The light in Muraki's false eye winked out.

Watari's whimpering subsided, to be replaced by heavy gasping breaths. Tsuzuki knelt by his side.

"Save your pity." Muraki seated himself in the armchair vacated by Tsuzuki and crossed his legs. "He consented to undergo the surgery to insert the bionic modem implant. All I did was mimic what happens when the level of network traffic exceeds his brain's ability to process it."

Tsuzuki studied Watari's pale face and sweaty brow. "Is that true?"

Watari nodded. "It...it was the most convenient way...to maintain connectivity to Akasha." Using Tsuzuki as a support, he tried to stand up but collapsed in an ungainly heap.

"Akasha?" Tsuzuki repeated. It sounded like a woman's name. "Is that someone you know?"

"It's the name I gave the network," Watari explained. "Akasha is the Sanskrit word for 'aether.'"

"How appropriate," Muraki remarked. "Early physicists considered aether to be the fifth element that propagated electromagnetic and sound waves. So while Enma hoards human souls to distill Wood energy, you harness human memories to create your very own 'Aether.'"

Watari shrugged. "Waste not, want not."

"Why is human knowledge so important to EnmaDaiOh?" Tsuzuki asked. "Why has he created a database of human knowledge in the first place?"

"I'm not his confidante. I wouldn't pretend to comprehend the mind of DaiOh-sama." Watari wiped the sweat from his brow. "But I have a sneaking suspicion that on some level, the inhabitants of Meifu have always been intrigued by the ways of humans. They've been observing us for millenia, you know. I suppose they have a vested interest in our survival."

"Oh." Tsuzuki couldn't help feeling disappointed. He had hoped Watari would have more insights into EnmaDaiOh's plans for humanity. "Then what about you? You're not stupid - you're an educated man with a university degree! You could simply look up information in the library...or figure things out yourself using your intellect or performing experiments! You've got enough brains of your own!"

"Well," Watari flashed him a lopsided smile, "you do have a point. But there's one paradox I discovered during my many years of education: the more I learn, the less I know."

"Huh? That doesn't make sense."

"I've always had a burning curiosity to understand how things work. It's what fuelled my interest in science. But I found that the more I studied, the more difficult it became to keep track of what I had already learned a few weeks, months, years ago. I had to constantly revise just to keep on top of things. I became a hamster on the treadmill of knowledge - constantly running just to stay still. Eventually I came to the conclusion that the real problem was the limited capacity of the human mind." Watari looked up at Muraki. "Isn't that so, Doctor?"

Muraki didn't answer. His hostile gaze zeroed in on the sight of Tsuzuki's arm around Watari's shoulder as he helped Watari to the sofa and sat beside him.

"But having a modem implanted in your head is going too far, Watari! I mean, how do you know it's safe? It might be damaging your health without you realising it!"

"Oh, the bionic modem's perfectly safe," Watari assured him. "I've had it for years, you know. It gives me unlimited access to Akasha's vast database. Can you imagine how exhilarating it feels? Every fact and figure known to humanity is virtually at my fingertips - ready to be retrieved at a moment's notice!"

Tsuzuki couldn't see the value in being a human encyclopaedia, let alone imagine how it would feel. But it seemed churlish to say so in the face of Watari's enthusiasm.

Muraki took out a cigarette. "I assume such a rare privilege comes at a commensurate price."

"Of course. I had to sacrifice some cerebral function in return. It was a small price to pay."

Tsuzuki blinked. "You...you sacrificed some of your cerebral function?"

"Nothing that important - just the long-term memories of my old life. It's not like I'll need them anymore."

"What?" Tsuzuki spluttered. "Are...are you crazy?"

Watari frowned. "No. The link shouldn't affect my sanity, if that's what you're worried about."

"But...but to give up the memories of your past - your life in the land of the living! What person in their right mind would agree to that?"

"Why not? I don't need that old baggage any longer. Now I rely on Akasha. She provides me with an infinitely vast and much more reliable memory bank!"

"Fascinating," Muraki murmured. He lit his cigarette and took a long drag. "From what you've described, your bionic modem must have compromised your episodic memory. I'm guessing it's lodged somewhere in the fronto-temporal lobe of your brain."

"That's right! Some of the neocortex had to be resected so it could fit inside my skull. But don't worry - my cognitive abilities remain perfectly intact."

Tsuzuki was too appalled to speak.

"Really?" Muraki drawled. To Tsuzuki, he explained in a low voice, "Impaired judgement and an inability to feel remorse or regret for one's decisions are typical signs of frontal lobe damage."

Tsuzuki felt sick to the stomach. Painful memories of his own experience as a human guinea pig came flooding back - the helplessness, the isolation...and the soul-crushing knowledge that no one cared if he lived or died. "When exactly did you get this...this implant?"

"After I passed the preliminary assessment to be an employee in EnmaCho. My extremely high aptitude scores made me an ideal candidate to be Chief Engineer to Akasha. A person of lesser intellect would go insane from the information overload."

Tsuzuki frowned. "So you were already in Meifu, but you weren't officially appointed as a Shinigami at the time?"

"Nah, not officially. I had the modem inserted before."

"A Shinigami's recuperative power would present a major impediment to surgery," Muraki pointed out.

"Exactly." Watari combed a stray lock of blond hair from his forehead. "My body would've rejected the implant if I was a Shinigami."

On close inspection, Tsuzuki could just make out the ugly thickened scar tissue beneath Watari's long hair. It curled out to the hairline of his right temple, then back behind his ear. It was a sign that Watari would never regain complete function after the operation. The incision wound may be healed, but the internal damage would be permanent and irreversible.

The sight of it filled him a seething, impotent fury that propelled him to his feet.

"Is that all the brain is to you - the seat of the intellect and a memory bank of facts? What about emotions, memories, consciousness and will? What about personality and character, hopes and dreams, fears and foibles - all those traits that make you the person you are? Aren't they just as important?"

Watari blinked, bemused. "Well, I guess, but-"

"But nothing! By vandalising your brain, you're in danger of altering yourself! You risk changing something fundamental in your very nature - something that helps to make you who you are! Do you think so little of yourself that you'd sacrifice your nature...to be what? A mobile extension of a computer network?"

Muraki listened on in pensive silence, the cigarette held between his lips. Smoke wafted from his flared nostrils - the only obvious sign of movement.

"Not any computer network," Watari reminded him. "Akasha is the queen of computer networks. I can access her infinitely large memory banks when I've forgotten some chemical formula, mathematical equation...or even when I've misplaced my glasses. I don't have to depend on my own forgetful memory as long as I have a higher power to guide me. She is the one who makes me all-knowing and wise." His face lit up in a beatific smile. "So you see, Tsuzuki - the sacrifice I had to make was minimal in comparison. There are many others who would willingly sacrifice a lot more than their fronto-temporal lobe to link up to the mind of God."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Tsuzuki shook his head and paced the room. "Listen to yourself, Watari. What sane person would think a glorified network database is equivalent to...to God? Face it, this modem has ruined your judgement and is probably eroding what's left of your sanity!"

"I agree," Muraki agreed as he tapped ash from his cigarette. "He sounds as if he's suffering from grandiose delusions."

Tsuzuki turned on him in frustration. "Don't just sit there! You're the surgeon! If you know where the implant is, you can remove it!"

"Flattered as I am by your faith in my abilities, I'm no neurosurgeon. Besides, the engineer now has a Shinigami's recuperative power so I doubt I could make a difference in any case." He held up Watari's pencil. "But I'm not the only one here with the healing touch, am I?"

Tsuzuki took it. The pencil came to life, stretching and twisting between his fingers. Branches and small leaves sprouted along its length.

Watari's jaw dropped. He was transfixed by the sight.

"Wood's regenerative power is the energy of life itself. It can heal all living things. As Guardian of Wood, you alone have the power to restore and make him whole." Noticing Watari's awestruck expression, Muraki said, "Why are you so surprised? Despite what you may have been told, Enma doesn't have a monopoly on Wood."

Tsuzuki gazed down at the pencil-branch twining itself lovingly around his fingers. "You've never seen EnmaDaiOh do this?"

"No, never. He rarely reveals himself, let alone his power."

"No doubt he prefers to conceal the true extent of his power in shadows," Muraki retorted. "I would expect nothing less of the Kagetsu master."

How odd. Was EnmaDaiOh only interested in Kagetsu power - the Yin manifestation of Wood? What about Wood energy itself? Maybe the ruler of Meifu, a being who had never known the physical limitations of a mortal, saw no use for healing and regeneration.

"Shadows don't interest me." Tsuzuki caressed the newly-formed branch, soothing and calming it to a twitching, trembling quiescence. "I've hidden myself for too long."

"Yes, you have," Muraki agreed. "But now you have awakened. The time has come for you to use your power. We have been deprived of Wood's regenerative energy for too long." He came to his feet and stood beside Tsuzuki. "You've seen it work on objects of plant origin. Imagine what it can do for other creatures - living and non-living alike." He glanced meaningfully across at Watari.

Was it possible? Could he really use his Wood energy to extract the implant and make Watari whole again?

"What are you both staring at?"

"Watari..." Tsuzuki tried to choose his words with care. "Do you have any regrets about having the bionic modem?"

"What regrets? Having the modem implanted in my brain has made me a better person! It's enhanced my intelligence, increased my long-term memory-"

"And ruined your decision-making and judgement," Muraki retorted.

"Rubbish! I wanted to have the procedure. I don't even notice it's there anymore-"

"Really?" Muraki's voice was mocking. "Not even the headaches?"

"I know how to handle them. They don't last long," Watari said defensively. "Akasha gets over-excited sometimes. But I assure you, the benefits far outweigh the occasional inconvenience. I have no regrets."

"Then why hide the surgical scar?" Tsuzuki asked. "You grow your hair long to cover it up. If you've got no regrets, why hide it from everyone in the Shoukanka?"

Watari lowered his gaze. "I know they wouldn't understand. They'd accuse me of selling my body and soul to Akasha." He shrugged. "I've been subjected to this kind of prejudice before. Others view me as a traitor against my own kind...and perhaps I am."

Tsuzuki approached him. "I have some idea what it's like to be ostracised for being different - the loneliness, the shame. But I can use my power to help you."

Watari froze. "How?"

"I'll try to rid you of the implant. I'll use my power to repair the damage it's done to your brain."

"You mean...you want to use your Wood energy on me?" Watari stared disbelievingly at Tsuzuki. "But why?"

"Why not?" Tsuzuki replied simply.

"Because I..." Watari's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed them away. "I don't deserve it."

"Don't be so silly." Tsuzuki's smile was gentle and warm. He held out his hands, palms outstretched in welcome.

Watari stared at Tsuzuki's hands. His expression was part fear, part terrified hope.

Standing back behind Tsuzuki, Muraki watched and waited like a hawk. His face was an unreadable mask.

"You've got nothing to fear," Tsuzuki reassured him. "I'm not here to judge you."

Watari shook himself, as if rousing from a trance. "I know." He put his glasses back on. "I've been judged already. I can't accept your offer."

"Don't you want to regain the function you've lost?" Tsuzuki reached out towards him.

"No!" Watari shrank away. "I don't want to lose my link to Akasha! Without it I'm nothing!"

"What are you talking about? That link has damaged your brain! All I want to do is restore your memories and make you whole again!"

"No, no!" Watari scrambled out of the sofa. "I don't want to be healed! I don't want to remember!" There was a hysterical note in his voice. "Please, whatever you do, don't make me remember!"

"All right, Watari. It's all right." Tsuzuki lowered his hands. "What don't you want to remember?"

"I...I don't know. I...can't remember." A hysterical chuckle escaped Watari's lips. "All I know is I never want my memories back."

"How ironic." Muraki let out a derisive snort. "He prides himself on his electronically enhanced memory database even as he blinds himself to the truth about his own life."

"It makes no sense, Watari. How can you be scared of something you can't remember?"

Watari rubbed his forehead, automatically touching his healed scar. "I don't know. All I know is the idea of regaining my memories terrifies me."

"Your hypocrisy is mind-boggling," Muraki murmured. "You trawl through the memories of others courtesy of Enma, yet you prefer to remain in ignorant darkness about your own."

"I...I must've had a good reason for agreeing to extract my memories in the first place! Nothing good can come out of having them back - I'm sure of it."

"Look at him," Muraki told Tsuzuki. "Pitiful, isn't he? His fear of the unknown is rooted in ignorance. See how it has transformed him into a man who is afraid of himself? It's all the more reason for you to heal him and restore his mind. Once his memories have been brought to light, his fear will be no more. Knowledge is power - even the engineer cannot argue with that."

"No!" Watari shook his head wildly. "This fear...it's a defence mechanism - a way for me to maintain my sanity. It's my mind's way of telling me that I'm better off not knowing about my former life."

Tsuzuki was torn. He wanted to use his power to heal Watari - but how could he when Watari was so opposed to the idea?

"You understand, don't you?" Watari turned to Tsuzuki, brown eyes wide in appeal. "Haven't you ever been so consumed with shame and remorse over a deed you wish you could undo?"

Tsuzuki nodded. He certainly had - many more times than he cared to remember.

"You see? Our lives are filled with actions we regret - but it's impossible for us mere mortals to go back in time to set things right. We have to live with our mistakes, our blunders...and our failures. But some of us are lucky." Bitter cynicism edged his voice. "Some have the power to impose a selective amnesia over their minds and wipe the slate clean, effectively absolving themselves of all responsibility for the past."

Tsuzuki flinched at the resentment in Watari's eyes. "I...I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. Although your powers have awakened, you have walled off the memories of your past. It was the only way you could retain your sanity against the crimes of your past."

Tsuzuki was stunned at the turnaround in their conversation. "How...do you know all this?"

"How else?" Watari pointed to his right temple with a wry smile. "The memories of all deceased humans are meticulously archived by Akasha - including the memories of your dear mother."

Tsuzuki froze. "Watari, you wouldn't dare-"

"She witnessed you summoning the four elemental shikigami for the first time when you were eighteen."

"No..." Tsuzuki's voice was little more than a horrified whisper. "I don't believe you."

Muraki's sharp-eyed gaze narrowed to dangerous slits. He crushed his half-smoked cigarette in the nearby ashtray.

"As she lay dying, bleeding to death from her wounds, she saw them raze the village to the ground in your name, while the screams of the dying echoed around her and the stench of burning flesh filled the air."

"No!" Tsuzuki covered his ears. He didn't want to remember the events of that terrible day. "Don't say anymore!"

But it was too late. The memories were flooding back. In his mind's eye, he was kneeling on the bare ground, gasping for breath. The angry mob had already hunted down his mother and sister. And they were now closing on him with their barking dogs and burning torches.

The superstitious villagers, fuelled by envy and prejudice, had taken everything from him. His family. His home. The gardens his family had lovingly tended were now on fire.

Everything he loved - all gone.

"The lynch mob showed her no mercy," Watari continued. "They struck her with stones. They bludgeoned her with picks and shovels. They stomped and kicked her where she lay on the ground-"

"Enough! No more!" Tsuzuki's voice was barely audible above his muffled sobs. "I don't have to listen to this!"

"They did the same to your sister, but at least for her the end was quick. One vicious blow to the head was enough to crack her skull open."

Tears rolled down Tsuzuki's cheeks. He abandoned them in their hour of need. He was responsible for their deaths. He was evil, cowardly, a creature worthy of nothing but scorn. He was a harbinger of doom who brought death and misfortune to all he met. His very existence was an abomination. Was it any wonder that the villagers wanted him dead?

_Monster! Monster!_

Their chants echoed in his head. They had been right all along. He _was_ a monster. The only one of his kind in the whole world. There was no one else feared and despised as much as him - was there?

"Okaasan...Ruka...forgive me. It should've been me. If I could turn back time...I would give up my life instead!"

"Your poor mother's death was excruciating in comparison," Watari continued. "She suffered multiple fractures, internal bleeding-" His words were abruptly cut off by a squeal, followed by a series of choking gasps.

Tsuzuki looked up.

Muraki held Watari aloft by the throat, so high that his feet scrabbled in the air. "Be quiet." His low voice held an edge of steely menace. "You have sung more than enough." He tossed Watari aside onto the sofa. "Be thankful I didn't short-circuit your bionic modem and terminate your precious link."

Watari clutched his throat as he gasped for breath. "Isn't this...what you wanted: to awaken...the real Tsuzuki? I thought...I was giving you...a helping hand."

"I don't need your help," Muraki growled. Abruptly he turned on Tsuzuki, false eye glowing. "Do you mean it? Would you prefer to die?"

Tsuzuki blinked away his tears. There was no compassion or sympathy from Muraki - nothing but callous disdain.

"In that case, all you had to do was ask." He lowered his head towards the side of Tsuzuki's neck, his gaze hooded. "As I told you before, I am yours to command." He bared his teeth in a vicious snarl.

"What are you-"

It was too late. Muraki's teeth sank into the juncture of shoulder and neck, through muscle and tendon to major nerves and vessels. This was nothing like the playful nibbles Muraki had inflicted on him during foreplay. This was brutal and savage - the act of a predator latching onto its prey in a lethal grip.

The pain was excruciating. Stunned out of his reverie, Tsuzuki pulled at Muraki's head.

"Let me go! You're hurting me!"

Muraki didn't listen. If anything, his teeth seemed to sink deeper into Tsuzuki's flesh.

Tsuzuki couldn't breathe. The survival instinct overrode all else. "Let me go, Muraki!" He writhed and squirmed, his nails clawing Muraki's scalp and face. An agonizing jolt of pain sizzled down his arm, across his back - threatening to tear his body apart. "I...I don't want to die! Let me go! I don't want to die!"

Two bony appendages erupted from his back. Piercing the fabric of his clothes, they swung up and out, flapping wildly. Black feathers began to sprout along their entire length.

Muraki wrenched himself free, gasping for breath. Blood was smeared across his lips, and more blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, down his jaw. Disordered silver hair fell over his glittering gaze. He was inhuman, treacherous, bloodthirsty - a creature terrifying enough to strike fear in the hearts of men and women.

Tsuzuki retreated, eyes wide, clutching the healing wound at his neck, his wings fluttering nervously behind him. He was a fool to think he could tame Muraki. This man he had let into his heart was a monster - a monster hated by society, who would be shunned and ostracised for failing to conform to society's moral standards.

A monster starved of love and affection. A monster who learned to hide his true nature to find the acceptance he craved.

A monster just like himself.

The predatory gleam in Muraki's gaze went out, leaving behind an emptiness that cut Tsuzuki to the quick. "As you wish." His words were little more than a husky growl as he turned away to wipe his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Wow!" Watari lounged on the sofa, still flat on his back. "No wonder the boy thought Saaga had taken possession of you. I had no idea the black wings were yours all along."

Tsuzuki tucked his wings neatly behind his back. "I wanted him to think that. It seemed easier than explaining the truth."

Muraki managed a derisive snort. "Then he's a fool, and so are the rest of you Shinigami for failing to notice the difference. The demon dog's bat wings pale in comparison to the glossy magnificence of Tsuzuki-san's."

Perhaps Muraki only wanted him for his unsealed power. Perhaps Muraki would never love him for himself. At least Muraki did not fear his dark side - the aspect of his nature he was too ashamed to show the world. Muraki's devotion to him may be rooted in self-interest - but it was devotion all the same. How could he not be unmoved by it?

In the end, it didn't matter if Muraki loved him or not. Muraki needed him, depended upon him. Perhaps it wasn't love, but for Tsuzuki it was close enough.

Tsuzuki extended one wing to bridge the space between them, and allowed the black feathers to drape over Muraki's shoulders. "I don't want to die anymore. I was so caught up in self-pity I thought only of myself. I was being selfish."

"Yes, you were." Muraki wrapped the wingtip around him, pulling Tsuzuki towards him. "You are no use to me dead."

His kiss was brutal and demanding - a punishment of sorts. Tsuzuki's initial uncertainty melted under the onslaught. The lingering sweetness of his own blood in Muraki's mouth made him hungry for more. He pressed himself full-length against Muraki's lean body and grasped Muraki's head to urge him closer.

It was Muraki who withdrew first. He turned to Watari, who was avidly watching them from the sofa. "Leave us. If you don't want to be the beneficiary of Tsuzuki-san's regenerative powers, we have no further use for you."

"Fine then." Watari reluctantly came to his feet. "But don't you think Tsuzuki should know the truth about his father?"

Muraki stiffened. The hand he pressed against Tsuzuki's waist clenched into a fist. Tsuzuki could feel the tension emanating from his body.

"My father is dead." He looked from Muraki's clenched jaw to Watari's knowing smile. "He...he died before I was born."

"Your stepfather, you mean. But what about your true father - your biological father? Haven't you ever wondered about his identity?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tsuzuki tried to ease his way out of Muraki's arms without success. "I've only got one father, but I've never known him. He died before I was born."

"Are you sure?" Watari asked. "Are you sure you've never, ever met him?"

Tsuzuki shook his head. But even as he did so, an image flashed into his mind, vivid and clear - a small boy wobbling as he peered up at him in wonder.

_Purple! You have purple eyes like me!_

"No..." Tsuzuki shook his head again. "That was just a dream. How can it be a memory if I'm seeing myself..." He turned to Muraki, confused. "It was your doing, wasn't it? You planted that dream in my mind."

Muraki glared across at Watari. "Get out before I throw you out."

A sudden gust of wind swirled around Watari's ankles and steadily moved up his body, making his clothes flap around him. "I see my time is almost up," he remarked cheerfully.

Tsuzuki tugged at the lapel of Muraki's jacket. "Stop it, Muraki. I want to hear him out."

"Never mind," Watari said. The whirlwind enveloped him completely, dislodging his glasses and making his long hair fly about in wild disorder. But he simply chuckled as he wrapped his lab coat around himself with a flourish. "There is a Gospel in the Bible named Luke, which is derived from 'lux,' the Latin word for light."

"Luke," Tsuzuki repeated. "Is the anagram in my dream a reference to the Bible?"

Watari nodded. The whirlwind was whipping around him with a ferocity that made it difficult for him to speak aloud, yet it left the rest of the room untouched. "Use the numbers to find...chapter and verse. You'll find it...most enlightening." He smiled as he dematerialised before them.

"Watari!" Tsuzuki broke out of Muraki's arms. He went to the spot where Watari had stood. The air was still - the whirlwind was gone as well. "What have you done to him?" he demanded of Muraki.

"Nothing. He finally took flight of his own accord. I merely helped him on his way." Muraki shrugged off his trenchcoat and threw it on the sofa. "As you can see, the engineer is Enma's candidate for the title of Gold Raven. But he possesses no true Sun energy within him. He is just a pretender - the latest in a long line."

"What happened to the others?"

"The same thing that happens to any creature who dares to fly too close to the sun - they tumble back to earth, their wings singed beyond repair." Muraki loosened his tie, his hungry gaze fixed firmly on Tsuzuki.

Tsuzuki returned his gaze. He was determined not to be distracted by Muraki's sex appeal this time. "Where's that Bible? I need to look up something."

"No, you don't." Muraki tossed the tie aside and began working at the buttons of his shirt.

"Yes, I do. If that anagram is a Biblical quote, then I need to know what it means." He searched the armchair, then the sofa. If Lux referred to Luke, then 3 and 22 could certainly be chapter and verse numbers. "Where did you put it?"

Muraki grasped a black wingtip to halt Tsuzuki's progress. "Come here."

Tsuzuki flapped his wing free. "Then tell me what the anagram means: LUX, 3, 22."

"It means nothing of importance." Muraki stepped towards Tsuzuki and nuzzled his ear.

"But I saw it in my dream - a dream you planted in my mind! How can you say it's not important if you're the one who put it there?"

Muraki hesitated mid-nuzzle.

"Unless...it wasn't you?" Tsuzuki pulled away so he could see Muraki's face. "But...you know about my dreams. You must, because I've seen you in some of them. That's why I came after you to begin with. I thought the dreams were some kind of telepathic message from you - a clue that would lead me to you. Which it did."

Muraki avoided his gaze. "I am no dream caster. Victims of my curses may see me in dreams, but that is merely a byproduct of the curse. How on earth could someone with my miniscule power place a curse on the Guardian of Wood?" Muraki stared into the distance, his expression remote. "As the seal gradually lifts from your mind, it's inevitable that you will regain the memories of your past."

"But they aren't memories - not all of them, anyway! In one of the dreams, I saw my mother as a young woman, mourning the death of her husband! And in another, I saw her viewing the full moon with me and my sister when we were young children! So they can't be _my_ memories of her! If anything, these memories belong to someone else...someone who knew her before I was born." Tsuzuki's voice fell away to a hushed whisper as the realisation hit home. "No, it can't be..."

Muraki closed his eyes. He looked like a condemned man awaiting his sentence.

"But my father is dead! He's been dead for years! I've never seen him or heard from him all my life! He's never been there for me, ever!" He shook Muraki by the shoulders. "Watari is lying about my father, isn't he? Isn't he?"

Muraki did not speak. He opened his eyes - both false and true - to reveal glowing red slits.

* * *

It's been a long time between updates. I'm so sorry about this. Real life has been getting in the way, plus it took me a long time to figure out how to write Watari. I was trying to flesh out the background that's only hinted at in Kamakura arc (manga vol12), which is hard because it's a side of Watari we never really see. So if it does seem OOC, then yeah, I agree - it's more my extrapolation of his character based on events in the manga.


	34. B&B Christmas Special part I

I have been stuck writing-wise. It's partly procrastination, partly frustration at the convoluted storyline as it now stands.

There is only one way to fix writer's block: write, write, write. Right?

That's basically how this chapter came about. Think of it as part 1 of a sidestory that takes place within the B&B universe, roughly after Tsuzuki is cured of his anorgasmia, but before he undergoes his transformation. Then imagine that the entire universe has been timeshifted to Christmas Day.

I know it's a stretch, but if you've managed to read this crazy story this far I'm sure you can do it.

Notes:

1. There are spoilers for the Vol 6 sidestory "The Child and I." You don't need to have read it, but the premise of this tale will make a bit more sense if you have.

2. I decided to change the spelling of Gushoshin to Gushoushin. There is no good reason for this. It's a symptom of my procrastination. I've also been wondering about changing Shoukanka to Summons Bureau, but I decided not to do this at the last minute. Might change my mind later.

3. I have made 003 gender neutral. I once thought 003 was female because in a Hanayume chapter Watari imagines 003 as a bride with a veil. But in this era of gay marriage and civil unions, why on earth can't a man be a bride and wear a veil? Wearing a veil is no indication of gender. 003's gender is never defined in the manga anyway – the Japanese seldom use gender-specific pronouns.

This could have been published as a separate story, although I feel it works better as part of the B&B universe. I'm also publishing it as a 'test' of sorts. If all goes well, the part 2 conclusion will be published in the near future - maybe. Definitely before Christmas anyway.

If this story is ever deleted, a back-up copy can be found on my website:

lyrebird dot aithine dot org

* * *

It was early morning in the Shoukanka. Seated at his office desk, Tsuzuki adjusted the red felt hat on his head. Trimmed with white fur and a matching white pompom, it was perched on his head at a rakish angle.

"There! How do I look?"

"You look like an idiot." Perched on his computer screen, Gushoushin Younger folded his feathered arms across his chest.

"Hmph! Don't be such a spoilsport." Tsuzuki pulled the hat forward over his head, so that the fur trim concealed his eyes. "How do I look now? More mysterious?"

"More ridiculous! What are you dressing up for?"

Tsuzuki pushed his chair back and spun it around. "It's the festive season! The season to be jolly! Hohoho!"

Gushoushin took to the air in alarm. "Are you drunk this early in the morning, Tsuzuki-san? What are you talking about?"

Tsuzuki picked up the matching red cape hanging from the back of his chair. It was trimmed with the same white fur as the hat. He cast it over his shoulders with an elaborate flourish worthy of a matador dodging an imaginary bull. "It's Christmas, silly. I'm going to dress up as Santa Claus, and spread good cheer throughout the Shoukanka! Hohoho!"

Gushoushin hovered in front of him. "But we don't celebrate Christmas. It's just another day at the office. Tatsumi-san said we couldn't afford to take time off in December—"

"I know, I know. But I thought it would be nice to go to work, wish everyone a Merry Christmas and pass around some sweets." Tsuzuki held out a green sack. Inside were cellophane bags tied with colourful ribbons. "I'm sure these chocolate truffles will lift everyone's morale and improve productivity. Surely Tatsumi would approve, right?"

"Ohhh, chocolate truffles!" Gushoushin Younger hovered closer, eyes sparkling with interest. "Where did you get these from?"

"I made them myself. Would you like some?"

"Err…" Gushoushin Younger shook his head. Everyone in the Shoukanka knew about Tsuzuki's terrible culinary skills. "No thanks."

"Are you sure? There's plenty to go around."

"It's all right, really. I'll leave them for the others."

"Don't be silly! Take it, take it!"

Gushoushin Younger reluctantly accepted the cellophane bag. "Thanks, Tsuzuki-san. I'll share them with my big brother."

"Hope you enjoy them! Maybe if you both like them, you might rethink my library ban. You know, I've been on my best behaviour lately. I haven't destroyed anything for a while."

Gushoushin Younger's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to bribe me, Tsuzuki-san?"

"No, no, no! I just thought you might reconsider the severity of my punishment in view of my generosity. After all, charity is part of the Christmas spirit."

"It's a bribe! I knew it! Chocolates or not, the library ban remains in force!"

"All right, all right! I just thought I'd ask." Inwardly he cursed himself for his haste. He should have allowed Gushoushin Younger to eat the truffles first, waited until he was in a jovial mood – then asked them to reconsider. "Never mind." His violet eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief. "Maybe I'll just get one of those new-fangled tablet computers. I hear you can carry them anywhere and access everything online with the swipe of a finger. You need never visit a library again. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

"Sacrilege! Nothing can ever replace a well-stocked library!" The bird spirit took out a truffle and hurled it at Tsuzuki's head. "You take that back, Tsuzuki-san!"

Tsuzuki ducked in the nick of time. "Hohoho! When you lift my library ban, I will!" He poked his tongue out, then scrambled for the door as a second truffle was thrown his way.

He didn't have time to fool around. He was on a mission to bring Christmas cheer to the Shoukanka, and there was no time to waste.

* * *

His first stop was Watari's laboratory. Watari was mixing a bubbly mixture in a beaker over a Bunsen burner.

"Hohoho, Watari!" Tsuzuki bounded in with his red cape billowing behind him. "Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, Tsuzuki! Nice outfit! You're really looking the part!"

Seated on Watari's shoulder, 003 let out a hoot of approval.

"Thank you! Just thought I'd come in here to spread some Christmas cheer!" Tsuzuki reached inside his green sack.

"Ooh! Do you have a present for me?"

"Only if you've been good," Tsuzuki warned teasingly. He held up a cellophane bag.

"Ohh, thank you!" Watari grabbed the bag and yanked off the ribbon. "Chocolates!" He gave it a deep sniff and sighed. "They smell delicious!"

"They're caramel chocolate truffles. I made them myself using a recipe my sister taught me. Try one."

"Err…okay." Watari's enthusiasm dimmed. "It must have taken a lot of time and effort."

"I was up all night making them."

Watari inspected the truffle as if it held a hidden explosive. It was a dark chocolate ball decorated with a drizzle of caramel. It looked and smelled scrumptious. Watari's mouth began to salivate in anticipation.

Did he dare eat it? Tsuzuki's terrible cooking skills were legendary. But surely even Tsuzuki couldn't ruin a chocolate truffle. How could anything with chocolate taste bad? Reassured by that thought, Watari opened his mouth to take a bite.

Neglected on the laboratory bench, the contents of the beaker boiled over. Yellow liquid spilled on the the metal tripod stand with a loud hiss.

"Damn!" Watari turned down the Bunsen flame. "My new potion is ruined!" He grabbed a paper towel to wipe up the mess.

"What does it do?"

"It's my new sex-change potion! I tweaked the original formula I found in that old book, and I'm confident this one will be a roaring success. But it looks like I'll have to make a new batch. Will you be my test subject when it's ready to go?"

"Are you sure it'll work? I don't want to be transformed into a little kid or an invisible man like last time."

"I'll test it on 003! If it works on an owl, I'm sure it'll work on us!"

003 lowered its head to its chest, doing its best to make itself inconspicuous.

"All right." Privately Tsuzuki wasn't as confident. Watari had disappointed him before, so there was little point getting his hopes up. "Best of luck."

"Pfft! I don't need luck. I rely on the tried-and-true scientific method to achieve results."

"I was talking to 003, not you," Tsuzuki retorted. He patted the little owl. "Make sure you stand up for yourself. Don't let Watari push you around, okay?"

003 hooted and nodded.

"Well, I better get going. I need to spread Christmas cheer to others in the Shoukanka. Merry Christmas to you both! Hohoho!"

"Merry Christmas, Santa Tsuzuki!" Watari called out.

When Tsuzuki was out of earshot, he turned to 003. "Phew! That was a close call. If it wasn't for that bubbling beaker, I would've had no other choice but to eat it." He fished the chocolate from the pocket of his lab coat. "It may look like a truffle and smell like a truffle…but with Tsuzuki as cook who knows what it'll taste like!"

003 leaned forward for a closer look.

"It sure looks delicious, though. Care to take a bite?"

003 hooted in alarm and fluttered away.

Watari chuckled. "Well, I don't blame you. Better to be safe than sorry." With a regretful sigh, he tossed the sweet in a nearby bin and went back to making a new batch of sex-change potion.

* * *

Tsuzuki's next stop was Hisoka's desk. Hisoka had arrived at work on time as always. He was shrugging off his jacket and unzipping his backpack.

Tsuzuki bounded over with his sack over one shoulder, red cape swishing behind him.

"Good morning and Merry Christmas, Hisoka!"

Hisoka looked up. "Tsuzuki? You're early for once." He stared at Tsuzuki's strange attire. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"It's Christmas, silly! I'm dressing up as Santa! Hohoho! And I'm giving everyone gifts to celebrate!"

"Oh, right." Accustomed to Tsuzuki's hare-brained antics, Hisoka resumed unpacking his bag. "You haven't forgotten about our meeting with Tatsumi-san, right?"

"What meeting?"

"He wants to discuss the expenses we've been incurring on our assignments. Apparently we need to cut back because the Shoukanka's going over its half-yearly budget."

"But it's Christmas! Doesn't Tatsumi realise that this is the season for giving? People are meant to be opening their wallets, not zipping them shut!" Tsuzuki stroked his chin, thinking. "Hey, maybe I can bring him around with some of these." He opened up the sack.

Hisoka peered inside. "That's a lot of chocolate. You sure you can eat so much? You may be the King of Sweets, but this is ridiculous-"

"Hisoka, you've got it all wrong! These are for everyone in the Shoukanka, you included." He held out one cellophane bag. "Hohoho! Merry Christmas!"

"Oh…thanks." Hisoka's tone was somewhat sheepish. "Merry Christmas, Tsuzuki." He held the bag awkwardly in his hand, unsure what to do with it.

"Don't be shy. Try one," Tsuzuki urged. "It's peppermint. See if you like it."

Hisoka carefully untied the ribbon, took out a chocolate truffle topped with green flecks of mint, and popped it in his mouth.

Tsuzuki waited expectantly. "Do you like it?"

Hisoka pondered the question. "It's all right," he managed to say. He shifted it around his mouth for a moment…until his face began to turn bright red.

"Phew! That's a relief." Tsuzuki chuckled to himself, oblivious to Hisoka's reaction. "I was worried about how they would turn out. It took me hours to make them last night."

Hisoka clutched his throat. His eyes began to water. He started to make a muffled gagging sound.

"Hisoka, are you all right? What is it?"

Hisoka shook his head. He turned around and searched wildly in his backpack for some tissues.

"What's the matter?"

Hisoka spat the chocolate into the tissue and wiped his mouth. "What do you think?" he spluttered, face still bright red. "It's…it's…"

"Does it taste that bad? I sampled a few and I thought they were nice, but..."

On the verge of giving an honest answer, Hisoka hesitated when he saw Tsuzuki's forlorn expression. These sweets had been made with the best of intentions. It wasn't Tsuzuki's fault he had no idea how awful it tasted to everyone else…and Hisoka didn't have the heart to break the bad news to him.

"No…" Hisoka cleared his voice. "The chocolate's fine. It's…" He put on an exaggerated coughing fit. "I'm coming down with a sore throat. It must be the winter weather."

"Oh." Relieved, Tsuzuki patted his back. "You know what your problem is? You don't take care of yourself. Why don't I make you a nice hot lemon drink with some soothing honey—"

"No thanks, I'm fine." Hisoka disliked being fussed over – plus he was terrified of being subjected to more examples of Tsuzuki's dubious culinary skills. "We better get moving. Tatsumi's expecting us."

* * *

In his office, Tatsumi checked his watch and frowned. Five minutes late.

It was common for Tsuzuki to be tardy, but Hisoka was normally good at keeping him punctual.

The door opened. Tsuzuki bounded in, white pompom bouncing on his red hat, and matching red cape swishing behind him. "Hohoho! Merry Christmas!"

Behind him, Hisoka shut the door. "Sorry for being late, Tatsumi-san."

"Apology accepted, Kurosaki-kun. Please take a seat." Tatsumi regarded Tsuzuki sternly. "Tsuzuki-san, didn't I tell you that Christmas is supposed to be a normal work day like any other?"

"Aww, come on, Tatsumi! Christmas only comes around once a year!"

"Thank goodness for that," Tatsumi muttered. "Why on earth are you dressed like that? This is a workplace, not a fancy-dress party."

"But I'm here to spread Christmas cheer as Santa Claus!" Tsuzuki opened his sack of goodies. "Have you been a good boy this year?"

Tatsumi blinked. "Have I what?"

"Have you been a good boy? Only good boys and girls are allowed to get gifts from Santa." Tsuzuki turned to Hisoka and winked his way. "I didn't ask you because I know you're always good."

"Hmph!" Hisoka shrugged, unimpressed by the compliment.

"Stop fooling around and sit down, Tsuzuki-san. Time is money, and the Shoukanka can't afford to waste either on such frivolity."

"You are such a spoilsport, Tatsumi." Tsuzuki swept up his cape as he sat down, then allowed it to drape over the back of the chair to avoid creases. "What's the harm in letting your hair down once in a while, huh? Guess what I've got in here." He pulled out a cellophane bag tied with ribbon. "Your favourite – mocha truffles coated in dark chocolate!"

Tatsumi stared. "No, it's not."

"But you have coffee every morning, don't you?" Tsuzuki picked up the steaming mug on Tatsumi's desk and brought it to his lips.

"That's mine, Tsuzuki-san! If you want coffee, make it yourself!"

"Aha!" Tsuzuki put it back down, eyes alight with triumph. "I knew it! You do love coffee! Why else do you drink so much?"

"I only drink coffee to improve my concentration at work." Tatsumi was visibly offended at the very suggestion his morning caffeine habit was motivated by pleasure.

"Which means you're going to love these mocha truffles!" Tsuzuki dangled the bag before Tatsumi's eyes. "Loosen up a little, Tatsumi! It's Christmas! Hohoho!"

Tatsumi ignored it. "You're using this Western holiday as an excuse to shirk your work duties, aren't you?"

"Aww, come on, Tatsumi!" Tsuzuki pressed his hands together and leaned forward, violet eyes wide as saucers. "Please try the truffles! Do it for me! I came up with these mocha ones especially for you! I just know you'll love them!"

Tatsumi sighed. He could never resist Tsuzuki's begging puppy act. "Take off that silly hat and cape first, and then I'll try one."

Tsuzuki's eyes lit up. "You promise?"

A reluctant smile tugged at Tatsumi's lips. "I promise."

"All right!" Tsuzuki whipped off the hat with one hand, and untied the cape with the other. "Now try one!"

Tatsumi sat down and untied the cellophane bag. "Thank you, Tsuzuki-san. As secretary, I cannot condone activities that disrupt employee productivity - but personally, I do appreciate the kind gesture." He took out a truffle that was topped with a swirl of white ganache dotted with chocolate sprinkles. "Where did you get them from?"

"I spent all last night making and decorating them myself," Tsuzuki explained proudly, "so they would look as good as they taste." He opened his sack and rummaged around. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Unseen by Tsuzuki, Hisoka shook his head. When Tatsumi raised a quizzical eyebrow, Hisoka put a hand around his own throat and stuck out his tongue.

"See? I've got another batch right here." Tsuzuki triumphantly held up a second bag of mocha truffles. "If you'd like more, just say the word."

Tatsumi smiled warmly. "That's nice of you, Tsuzuki-san, but one bag is more than enough."

"Is it?" Tsuzuki's gaze focused on the untouched truffle sitting on Tatsumi's desk. "You haven't even tasted it yet. Come on! I want your opinion on how it tastes."

"Not now, Tsuzuki-san. We have business to attend to first. I'll have it later with morning tea."

"But you promised!" Tsuzuki's pleading expression turned mutinous. "You've got to keep your word!"

"And I will. Later." Tatsumi's tone was pleasant, but firm.

Tsuzuki pulled the Santa hat back on his head. The white pompom dangled over his face. "Hohohoho! Looks like someone here hasn't been a good boy this year!"

Tatsumi slowly slid his glasses up his nose. "And it appears someone here is going to have their expense account halved because he's been spending too much on wining and dining while on assignment."

"What the…? Tatsumi, you're worse than Ebenezer Scrooge! How can you be so cruel?" Tsuzuki ruffled Hisoka's chestnut hair. "Look at poor Hisoka - he's still a growing boy, remember! Kids his age always eat a lot!"

"You moron!" Hisoka shook him off. "He means you!"

"Me?" Tsuzuki stared from Hisoka to Tatsumi, bemused by the accusatory stares cast his way. "But I always eat and drink in moderation."

"Your idea of moderation would put a pig to shame," Tatsumi retorted.

"A pig? How dare you insult me like that?" Tsuzuki snatched the bag of truffles from Tatsumi's desk. "You definitely don't deserve a gift from Santa this year! And there's no use begging for forgiveness because I won't change my mind!"

Tatsumi managed to keep a straight face. "Very well. I guess that's what I deserve."

Tsuzuki frowned. He didn't expect Tatsumi to accept his punishment so readily.

"Tatsumi-san!" It was Chief Konoe yelling from the office next door. "The stupid printer is jammed! Come over here and fix it!"

"Not again." Tatsumi stood up. "He's clueless when it comes to any form of modern technology."

They found a disgruntled Chief jabbing at the printer buttons.

"Damn printer! Why complain about a paper jam when there's no paper?"

Tatsumi ushered him away and opened up the printer. "You always need to take a look inside. I've told you this before, Chief."

"I did, and there was nothing there!" Chief Konoe growled. He noticed Tsuzuki in his floppy red hat and matching red cape. "What's with that funny get-up, Tsuzuki?"

"I'm dressing up as Santa to bring Christmas cheer to everyone in the Shoukanka," Tsuzuki explained. "Hohoho! Merry Christmas! Would you like a gift?" He held out the bag of chocolate truffles.

The old man's eyes lit up. "Chocolates!" He took the bag, his bad mood gone. "Thank you. This will go nicely with morning tea. Where did you get them from?"

"I made them myself. Try one and tell me what you think."

"Oh." Chief Konoe's brow creased in consternation. "You know, at my age I need to watch what I eat. My waistline isn't getting any smaller." He patted his protruding paunch. "Maybe I'll share these with Tatsumi."

"No! He insulted me, so he's not allowed to have any! Make sure he doesn't take a single bite!"

Tatsumi hid his smile of relief as he pulled out the ink cartridge and peered inside.

Standing by the door, Hisoka grimaced. "If only I'd known sooner," he muttered to himself.

* * *

It was a disgruntled Tsuzuki, free of his red hat and matching cape, who marched into Watari's laboratory later that afternoon.

"No one here seems to appreciate Christmas!" he declared as he dropped his sack of chocolates on the floor, slumped on the empty swivel chair and put his feet up on Watari's disorganised desk.

"Really?" Watari asked absently. He was too preoccupied pouring bubbly yellow liquid from a flask into a beaker to notice. "What happened?"

"Tatsumi accused me of being a pig and complained about my Santa outfit! Then he had the gall to halve the limit on my expense account – on Christmas Day of all days!"

"Ugh!" Watari winced in sympathy. "Was this before or after he ate your chocolate truffles?"

"He didn't deserve to get any truffles! I made sure to confiscate his gift bag before he could have one!"

"Good for you." To 003, who was perched on the retort stand, Watari mouthed the words: "Lucky Tatsumi."

The little owl nodded sagely.

"Serves him right anyway. That's what he gets for being a bad boy." Tsuzuki fished out a truffle from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and a blissful smile lit up his face.

Watari squirted distilled water into the glass flask, and poured the rinsings into the beaker. "Was he the only one?"

"Terazuma wasn't much better," Tsuzuki said, mouth still full of truffle. "He made fun of my outfit! I only allowed him to have a gift bag because Wakaba-chan pleaded on his behalf."

"She did?" Watari frowned. Surely Wakaba-chan knew about Tsuzuki's awful cooking. Maybe she was planning to use the truffles to play a trick on her notoriously prickly partner. She was the only one in EnmaCho who could get away with it.

"Yeah." Tsuzuki swallowed it down. "She wanted several, but I turned her down. I need to keep some bags for Saya-chan and Yuma-chan. I think they might be back from Hokkaido tomorrow." He noticed Watari swirling the liquid in the beaker. "How's the sex-change potion going?"

"All done. Now I need a suitable test subject." Watari put the beaker down and gestured to 003.

The little owl fluttered down to the beaker. It tilted its head to one side, studying the tiny bubbles as they rose to the surface of the liquid.

"Go on, 003!" Watari urged. "Down the hatch!"

003 took a quick scoop with its beak, lifted its head high and gulped it down.

Tsuzuki approached the lab bench to watch. "Does it work?"

"Patience! It doesn't work that fast!"

003 puffed its feathers out until its entire body was a ball of brown fluff. It hooted loudly three times, its beady eyes bulging out of its head.

"003! Are you okay?"

003's eyes rolled back. The little owl keeled over and hit the bench with a thud.

"003!" Watari shook little owl. "003! Can you hear me?"

"What happened?" Tsuzuki asked.

"I don't know! 003 just blacked out!"

The owl blinked and shook its head. It peered up at the two men with glazed eyes.

"003? Are you all right?"

003 staggered to its feet and hooted weakly.

"Oh thank goodness!" Watari brought 003 to his cheek. "I was so worried. I don't know what I would've done if you were injured in any way."

003 nuzzled him back.

"I guess this proves your sex-change potion doesn't work," Tsuzuki said. "But the most important thing is that 003 survived it without any ill effects."

"Huh?" Watari was indignant. "How can you tell it didn't work?"

"Well, 003 looks exactly the same."

"Aha!" Watari smiled knowingly. "But birds lack any external genitalia, and males and females often look alike in many owl species. The only true way to identify a bird's sex is to conduct a detailed physical examination."

"Yeah?" Tsuzuki felt squeamish at the prospect. "How detailed?"

Watari grabbed a latex glove. "Very."

003 hooted wildly. With flailing wings, she fluttered away out of Watari's reach.

"003! Where are you going? Come back here! I need to see if my potion is a success!"

003 evaded Watari's groping hands and flew around the room.

The laboratory door slid open. Gushoushin Elder hovered inside, a writing pad in his hand. "Watari-san, you have an overdue library book that's been reserved by someone else. It needs to be returned at once!"

"No problem, Gushoushin Elder! I'll be with you in a minute! 003, you stay right there!"

Gushoushin Elder watched Watari's futile chase of the little owl. He hovered over to Tsuzuki and whispered, "What on earth is Watari-san up to?"

"Err…well…" Tsuzuki let out a nervous laugh. "You don't really want to know."

"Come back here, dammit!" Watari lunged after 003, only to clutch at empty air. "All you have to do is spread your legs! It won't take long! I'll be gentle, I promise!"

Gushoushin Elder goggled. "Of all the…" He swooped after Watari and pecked him repeatedly on the head. "Leave 003 alone!"

"Oww! Stop that! What's the matter with you?"

"You disgusting pervert! You make me sick! Pick on someone your own species!"

"No, no! You've got it all wrong, Gushoushin Elder! It's part of my experiment!"

"Experiment? Is that what you call it, you sex maniac?" The bird spirit resumed its ferocious pecking attack.

Tsuzuki sighed. So much for testing the potion on 003. Surely a fellow human would be a better test subject that a poor hapless owl.

He picked up the beaker and gave the effervescent yellow potion a sniff. To his surprise, it didn't smell so bad – in fact, it had a pleasant citrus scent. Reassured, he took an empty vial and filled it with a small sample.

Tonight he would use it to conduct some tests of his own – and he knew one human in the land of the living who would make an ideal test subject.


End file.
